


Classy / Trashy

by tobylove (orphan_account)



Series: I Love You, Freckles [2]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Chatlogs, F/F, F/M, Internet, Let's have fun, Lmao literally Loser is a Youtuber, M/M, Mutual Pining, One-Sided Attraction, Popularity, YouTube, oh well, this has been done before hasn't it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-05 23:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13398753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/tobylove
Summary: TrashmouthTozier hates beauty gurus. So why is he so caught up on a specific one?"Stan... what the hell is 'Reddie?'"





	1. Camcorder King

**Author's Note:**

> somebody shoot me   
> cute off the cuff youtuber au? okay count me in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan is about to do a collab. Richie is hot and cold about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of beauty gurus i've watched are actually so sweet,,,,,

If one were to go on YouTube, there would be no shortage of content creators to watch. Some of these creators are more popular than others. Some of them are vastly popular. But that does not automatically mean that they are vastly _liked._ If you went on YouTube right now and typed in TrashmouthTozier, you would see that he was vastly known, but vastly... eh...

TrashmouthTozier (Double T for short, or Teezy--and whose real name was Richard) was one of those YouTubers that was vastly liked and vastly _hated._ It took a certain type of person to like his content, many argued. He liked to do many things on his channel. He liked to do skits, and voice impressions, and sing, and play video games. But Voices were his thing. He did them so passionately and so animatedly (as with anything else he did), that 8 million people decided they liked him enough to stick around.

 **ily richie,** **u are my favorite youtuber,** comments would say. **i love how open and comfortable u are with urself, and ur so kind and sweet. pls never change.** These warmed his heart, and made him very happy, because in real life, he did not have the best luck with people liking his personality. He was always flattered to the moon with these.

And, at least once every time he posted, he would get the _other kind_ of flattering comments. These said things such as: **richie! you're so cute, Can I marry him please???,** **Is Richie single?** and **daddy goals!!!!.** These were usually from girls his age, with a little emoticon heart. But just because girls pumped up his ego didn't mean he was out of the clear. With publicity comes positive recognition... as well as negative.

It seemed like he got more of those than he did positive comments. Things like: **why tf is this dude so loud, This guy isn't funny, I don't see what the big deal about TrashmouthTozier is -_-, and jfc can u shut the fuck up???** And he wasn't even counting rude comments about his teeth, nasty anti-Latino slurs, or jabs at his crooked smile.

Those kind of hurt.

"But it's kinda what we signed up for," Stan the Man (whose name was, predictably, Stanley) had told him once. "Right?"

Him and Stan were best friends; they had been friends even before their call to the Internet, and they lived together. Stan was sitting on their couch, leaning his head off the cushions so that he was hanging upside-down and that his curls grazed the carpet. Richie (what he liked to be called in real life) was editing thumbnails for his most recent video. He heard Stan snicker behind him, and when he looked over his shoulder, Stan said: "so, I got my first hate comment."

Richie gasped, then he took a break from thumbnail-making so he could turn all the way around in his seat. _"But your squeaky-clean record,"_ he said, faux-incredulous, putting his hands up to his chest. Stan snickered again, color rising in his cheeks from being upside-down. 

"What does it say?"

Stan took a breath, maybe to try to stop himself from laughing. "Here it is. _'Jesus Christ, Stan. Nobody gives a shit about your Bird Talks. They're boring as fuck--_ that has like, sixteen ellipses-- _almost as boring as you."_

"Goddamn," Richie said, and he scrunched his face up into a wince. He shook his hand out like he had burned himself from touching a hot stove. "Who asked them, though?"

"The Self Committee," Stan responded, and they both snickered at that. Stan the Man Uris Gets Off a Good One. He continued. "Honestly, I'm kind of impressed. They say once you start getting hate, that means you're doing something right."

Richie smirked at this. "So I'm _not_ a shitty YouTuber, is what you're saying?"

"No," Stan said, sitting upright on the couch. "You're actually pretty fucking great."

* * *

"So when are you supposed to be doing that collab with PBP?" Richie asked later. _PBP_ was an abbreviation of PaperBoatPrince, who Richie wouldn't (and couldn't) deny was worth his salt. A lot of PBP's content consisted of literature-related things, like read-alongs... but the reason why Richie knew who he was is because PBP _also_ did let's-plays. And with almost double of Richie's follower count, it would be a shame if he said he _didn't_ know who he was.

"Oh, that," Stan said, and Richie hated when he got all bashful about things like this. Stan thought that PBP was cute. No doubt, he _was_ \--all firey red hair and blue eyes and smiles. And his fanbase was _amazing._ Probably because PaperBoatPrince (whose actual name was, not as predictably, William) was amazing in himself. He was very nice, very sweet, mild-mannered but bold, and radiated good vibes.

Richie felt his cheeks burning with a rare emotion.

Envy.

Slight envy, but envy all the same.

"He actually messaged me earlier today," Stan said after getting his face to return to its' normal color. "He wants to start on Friday. We picked out the book together. So we're gonna read Insomnia, by King--which is pretty long; I wonder if he did that on purpose?--but I'm going to go over to... um, his apartment, and we're gonna start filming then. If all goes well."

"Huh! Coolio," Richie said, genuinely interested.

"I told him though," Stan went on, "that you're my roommate. He freaked out and was like, _'oooh, TrashmouthTozier?_ He's so cool, I wanna meet him! He's hilarious! Drag him along with you!' So... I guess we're going together."

"Wait, _skrrrrt!_ " Richie said, making a screeching tire sound with his mouth. " _PBP is a fan of me?_ Like, he's _watched my videos?_ "

"I was surprised, too," Stan said, and smirked when Richie half-heartedly flipped him the bird.

"Well, it's no better time than now to give him my autograph," Richie said, flashing one of his mischievous, glinting smiles at Stan. "I'm-a gonna be starstruck."

"You and I both. I'm actually kinda nervous. Not even just about PBP. Also because his roommate is Eddie Kaspbrak."

Richie scrunched his face up and shook his head. "Eddie _who?"_

"Kaspbrak," Stan repeated, as if Richie didn't hear him the first time. "He's got two different channels. His main account is kaspbrak-attack. The Eddie Kaspbrak one is his vlogging channel. I really like him. He seems really sweet in his videos. Also, his makeup is on point."

"I've never heard of him," Richie admitted.

"That's because he's a beauty guru, and I know--"

Richie spat out an imaginary drink so he could break out into a series of giggles. Yeah, that's why he hadn't heard of him! Because he was some beauty guru with a _vlogging channel?_ That didn't seem like any hard work at all--beauty gurus were overrated. And _any fucking body_ could pick up a camera and record themselves.

"--and I know that you have this complex about beauty gurus," Stan continued. "Eddie puts a lot of effort into his videos, just like you do. Every beauty guru does, Rich. They don't just sit around and look pretty. They put just as much work into their stuff as we do, I'm sure. Or as much work as PBP."

Richie continued to snicker. "Debatable. Almost bordering on farce, but it ain't quite there yet. What, does he do Storytime videos, too?"

"Yeah, he does, actually--"

Richie burst into even more laughter. He doubled over and wiped legitimate tears from his eyes. "Ooh! Stan! This is just chuckalicious to me. Almost too much."

"Don't make fun of him!" Stan said, rather sharply. "I get it--you think that doing makeup vids and Storytimes aren't as legit as things that other people do. But people say the same thing about Let's Players. So you guys are in the same exact boat."

"But, with video games--"

"Anybody can play them. Just like anybody can do their own makeup, if they're good at it. But not everybody's good at video games, and not everybody's good at makeup. People watch him to get better, and people watch you to have fun."

"I don't think they're comparable," Richie said, being stubborn.

"I bet _you_ couldn't do makeup as good as him," Stan said.

"Whatever," Richie mumbled back. "I bet he's just a Camcorder King anyway." Which the Tozier Translation for that meant that he most likely did jack shit. His distaste still hadn't dissipated, and now he was just trying to actively give Stan a hard time... but he would be lying if he said that Stan hadn't gotten him there. He had hooked him.

And Richie didn't have much to say to that.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stan: pffft "I'm giving PaperBoatPrince my autograph". bitch get HIS autograph


	2. Boyfriend Tag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Crazy how much we can learn about each other through a screen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> arctic monkey's music video for "snap out of it" is my aesthetic
> 
> also ugh sorry if this is long yikes//

All that night, Richie thought of the conversation that he had with Stan. What was the big deal about that Kaspbrak kid, anyway?

He always had the _worst_ time sleeping. That was the reason why sometimes, he would double-upload onto his channel way early into the morning. He didn't have to toss and turn too much to know that tonight, like many other nights, was going to royally fuck him in terms of going to bed. So he picked up his phone, opened his YouTube app, and paused. He realized he needed a cigarette. The only time his hands shook was when he needed one.

He was nervous. What the fuck _for?_ All he had to do was type in the guy's username, and his channel would pop up. Why did he even remember the dude's name, anyway? After Stan had brought it up, Richie had realized that for some reason, he was morbidly curious about the guy. Finally his hands awoke from their paralysis and he typed in the name.

Shit. He was fucked. Even from the thumbnail, he could tell the guy was cute.

 _Really_ cute.

Yeah, yeah. A lot of beauty gurus were cute or handsome, or whatever, so he tried to brush that aside. He clicked on the first video that popped up. It was a Best Friend Tag. Richie had to stop himself from rolling his eyes--don't cast judgement too quickly or whatever the hell; take Stan's advice. Stan _always_ had the best advice. Maybe this guy really _was_ sweet and nice, and not a total airhead.

It startled him; he had a bit of culture shock when the video started up. Sitting beside the cute Eddie dude was PaperBoatPrince. Which made sense... Stan _did_ say that they lived together. Him and Stan were best friends, and they lived together... why didn't he assume that Eddie and PBP would do the same?

 _"I just want you guys to know how much I love him,"_ PBP (who didn't go by William--he went by Bill) said into the camera, with a big smile. The cute Eddie dude looked equally as happy. He could tell how they were best friends. _"I mean, look at him! He's so cute."_

 _"I was going to say you were cuter, Bill,"_ the cute Eddie dude said. _"But then I would be lying. I'm glad you know I'm the cuter friend!"_

They both laughed, and PBP pushed Eddie playfully. The former even flipped the latter the bird, which the cute Eddie dude was cheeky enough to censor out. Richie felt himself grinning, even though he didn't necessarily _want_ to... the guy had a fun sense of humor. Maybe he wasn't a total moron after all. _See? Stan and his great advice._ He ended up watching the entire video, which was about 12 minutes long... and it was actually pretty entertaining. The dynamic that the two of them had reminded Richie a lot of him and Stan, so they were pretty chuckalicious. Always Getting Off Good Ones.

Instead of clicking one of the recommended videos on the sidebar, Richie did something he didn't think that he would--he ended up clicking the link to Eddie's entire channel. He was surprised (shell-shocked, really) to see that he had _7 million subscribers._ His profile picture was one of him with a flower crown on, a fierce winged eyeliner (at least that's what Richie _thought_ it was called, winged eyeliner), and he was blowing a kiss. Yeah, he was _really cute._ If this Eddie dude ever wanted to play some video games or something... then Rich could play them _all night long._

 _Come to_ my _side of YouTube, pretty boy,_ Richie thought of nowhere. _I'd treat you_ real _nice, I promise._

 _Give me a goddamn break,_ He shot back at himself. _Stupid brain. Get the fuck outta here!_

Looks like the little guy had fallen on hard times. The second most recent video he had done was called "I'm Taking a Break". The most recent one (uploaded two days ago) was another makeup tutorial. Yeah... he was right, that's what it was called. Winged eyeliner. Eddie had written it in the video title. But he would watch that video next. He clicked on the "I'm Taking a Break" video (which was three months old) and sat back in bed.

This video was interesting. Eddie didn't have any makeup on in it, Richie could tell, because he could make out a thousand freckles and one singular blemish and a shadow above his lip from where he had shaved. He had been crying, it looked like--those big, pretty brown eyes looked swollen and impossibly bigger.

He threw his hands up in exasperation. _"He cheated on me,"_ he said, flatly. _"So all that fucking time we spent together is wasted. I get it--you hate me and I'm annoying and I'm too much. But why waste my time?"_ He looked off to the side, trying to avoid looking directly into the camera. _"And why waste yours'?"_

 _Damn,_ Richie thought. _Poor kid._ He felt a sudden tight warmness in his chest. He wasn't good enough for Sandra. He could relate.

 _"I have to go away for a little while,"_ Eddie said, looking back into the camera again. Finally his eyebrows furrowed, and he didn't look mad anymore--he looked shy and anxious and scared.  _"I'm so sorry._ _I hope you guys understand."_

And then the video ended.

Well that couldn't just be it, could it? Was Eddie okay? How was he holding up? What happened between him and his ex? Like he was watching a soap opera, or like he actually knew Eddie in real life and they were close friends, he _had_ to know. He spent the next two hours going through comments, piecing them together about what people said that Eddie posted on his social media. He watched previous videos that Eddie had with this guy, this Juanito. They had been dating for awhile--three years. And that wasn't just Eddie's ex-boyfriend, he learned. With a stupid, unnecessary feeling of dismay, Richie learned that it was his _ex-fiance._

 _They were gonna get married,_ he thought, and he felt kind of queasy. _Christ._

Wait. Hold the fucking phone. Why did he _care_ so much?

They had done a Boyfriend Tag together, during a period when they were still actually just boyfriends. Richie clicked that one... well, he had to will himself to. He felt a strong aversion to watching it, but he put on his Big Boy Pants and sucked it up. Eddie had his arms wrapped around this guy's neck, and Richie had the strongest urge to punch this Juanito motherfucker square in the face. Seeing how the relationship turned out, and all.

 _This is my boo right here,_ Juanito had said, and Eddie had smiled and kissed him on the cheek. Richie paused the video. He re-winded it back 15 seconds. Pressed play and watched it again. Re-winded it back again. He felt jittery and anxious and just _off,_ seeing that. He really just had to chalk it up to feeling bad for the little guy, seeing him so caught up in a dude that didn't respect him.

He was about to rewind the video again until he felt a hand on his knee. He jumped, even yelping a little (that was not exaggerated, friends and neighbors), and saw Stan smiling sadly at him in the dark. The light from his phone cast pretty shadowy shapes on Stan's face. He could see the shadow of Stan's eyelashes reflecting on his cheeks.

"Can't sleep?" Stan said, but they both knew that much was obvious.

Richie sighed and put his hand on Stan's. "Nah," he answered anyway.

"Whatcha watching?" Stan asked, and Richie felt his entire face grow hot. He was suddenly _very_ embarrassed. He tried to think of something funny to say, couldn't, so he didn't answer.

Stan looked down at Richie's screen, which was now paused and in the latter's lap. He gave one of his knowing, playful, Stanley Uris Half Smiles™ and said: "Oh. Okay."

"Don't say _a single thing_ about it," Richie warned, half-heartedly.

"Okay," Stan said, that taunting half-smile still lingering on his face. Richie almost had half a mind to kiss it away. "I won't."

* * *

So then the two of them got dressed hours later and were headed over to PBP's apartment, in order for Stan to do his collab. Richie yawned despite himself, knowing that he could've _probably_ fallen asleep eventually had he not stayed up all night being a jackass. A t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants wouldn't do it, friends and neighbors. He put on... actual clothes! An actual outfit! Wouldn't you know it! He put on ripped skinny jeans, and a plaid button-down tied around his waist, and a Sublime t-shirt. Good for him. Richard Tozier Pulls Off Some Good Clothes. He couldn't just look bummy--he had to impress.

 _No, jackass,_ he thought again. _Just PBP. Not that Eddie guy._

Here's a new phrase: Richard Tozier is Full of Shit.

Apparently, PBP was genuine in his excitement. "Ah! I'm so glad you guys were able to make it!" he said, kissing both Stan and Richie's cheeks as he led them through the door. Richie felt Stan's hand close around his shirt weakly--a nonverbal signal for "Oh, _Richie,_ I'm Such a Lovesick Dumbass, _Help Me_ ". Richie rolled his eyes and snickered. It was weird and very cool to hear PBP talk in person; it was hard to fully imagine the slow and steady gait of his voice in real life. "You guys just make yourselves at home. You like tea?"

"I like you," Stan blurted out. Then, he quickly added: "I meant. I like _tea,_ that you make. I bet I would like tea that you make."

PBP gave what Richie could only assume was his version of a Stanley Uris Half Smile™\--a full-on smile that crinkled his eyes. "Okay, Stanley. I'll be _right_ back. Oh! And guys? You can just call me Bill!"

As PBP--ahem, Bill--happily marched his way into his kitchen, Richie doubled over and gave the most soundless laugh he could muster in the circumstances. Stan cut his eyes at him, gave him the opposite of his half-smiles (the Stanley Uris Death Glare™) and flipped him off.

 

Stan and Bill had went to the latter's recording room, and Richie had sat on the couch and taken Bill's advice--made himself right at home. He put his feet on the table at first, but then realized that he was uncomfortable. So he turned to the side and lay down on the couch, his spindly form taking up the entire length of the couch (well, his feet hung off the arm) and fell asleep. For a little while.

He had a stupid ass dream that he would be embarrassed to admit, even to Stan. Eddie was in it, from the vlogs ( _from where else, dumbass?_ he thought). He had one of those little sunflowers in his hair, from his profile picture. He had on a pale yellow sweater that looked too big for him; it swallowed him up and made him look impossibly smaller. He was sniffling, trying to hide the fact that he was crying.

Richie took that sunflower from his hair and re-positioned it so that it was behind his ear. _"Hey, don't cry, Lil' Man,"_ he said, and lifted Eddie's chin up so he would look him in the eyes. _"You're too pretty for that. It makes me sad when pretty boys cry."_

 _"You think I'm pretty?"_ Eddie responded, his voice small and mousy and cute, and he blushed and downcast his eyes. He looked beautiful like that; looking up with his dinner-plate eyes, wide and still glinting with tears, the fringe of his brunet hair trying to hide those eyes and eyelashes, but they couldn't be blocked out, they couldn't be eclipsed; they were big and bold like the moon.

So Richie told him. _No. I think you're beautiful._

 _"I'm beautiful,"_ Eddie repeated to him, almost meekly. And then he repeated it again, more confident now: _"I'm beautiful. I'm beautiful, and you're so handsome. Kiss me, Richie."_

Richie tried to count how many times he kissed him, but it felt like a thousand times. _"Yes, Eddie, you're beautiful. God, you're so fucking beautiful. Scratch that. You're more than that. You're gorgeous. You're striking. You're art. You're_

"really knocked-out there, aren't you?" A voice said, and if _that_ didn't wake Richie up, he didn't know what would've.

"Huh? What?" He said, groggily... and then he almost shit his pants.

He should've expected that this was going to happen, him running into Eddie. He was in Bill and Eddie's apartment, after all. _Like, they_ literally _live here._ He wasn't in yellow, like in the dream--instead, he was in a black wifebeater and pink shorts (and matching socks). He didn't have on any makeup today, either, but Dream Richie was right about one thing. A lot of things.

Real Life Richie was proactively trying not to think about it again.

Eddie laughed. "You must not sleep well at night, or something."

Richie smiled despite himself. "Nah. I really don't. I sleep like shit. It's so sad that it's almost chuckalicious."

"It's almost _what?_ " Eddie said, and he laughed again, and that stupid warm feeling was back Richie's chest again. It felt good to be able to make him laugh.

"Ah. Y'know. Like, it's almost funny, how much it sucks."

Eddie was sitting on his and Bill's table (which wasn't a big deal; he looked, like, 140 pounds, soaking wet) and put his head in his hands. "Where do I know you from? You look and sound so familiar. Like, your mannerisms... Where do I know you from..."

Before Richie could answer, Eddie's eyes lit up a bit and he said: "Oh, wait. You're TrashmouthTozier, aren't you?"

This shocked Richie completely. So the kid really had come to his side of YouTube? Which was surprising. Richie never went to Eddie's side on purpose, and when he found himself there... he didn't stay for long _at all._ Or maybe he had just heard Bill watching his videos one day, maybe even joined him for a chuck or two. Richie was rendered speechless (which was a very hard feat to do). And he was flattered. He had to confirm his suspicions.

"Yeah," he said. "You've heard of me?"

"Yeah! I watch your videos sometimes. You're really funny."

_What? Me? Funny? Ya think so?_

"Aww... thanks, Sweetcheeks," Richie replied. Then, almost on impulse, he added: "I've watched some of yours', too."

"Really?" Eddie said, and his eyes got as wide as they did in the dream--he seemed just as surprised and flattered as Richie had. "Well. Don't leave me hanging. How did you like them?"

"Well, if you must know... your makeup is sick. You're really pretty."

Eddie broke out into a smile, and his entire face flushed. _"Aww, thank you!_ "

Richie winked. Really, if he said anything else, he would've said something stupid.

"You're really handsome, yourself," Eddie added, one corner of his mouth raising up more than the other into a smirk.

"I--ah... don't make me blush, Freckles," Richie said to this, albeit lamely. Eddie chuckled. Then, his cute mischief melted, if only for a moment, when Richie said: "Also, I'm sorry about your fiance."

Eddie blinked. Then he smiled and looked at Richie out of the corner of his eye. "Juanito? Good _riddance_. He wasn't good for me. Or to me. Not in private, anyways. I kinda wish he would've cheated on me sooner, so I didn't have to waste as much time as I did."

"Ah... well, you're taking like a champ," Richie responded, and he grinned. He felt relieved.

"Thank you! And I'm sorry about your girlfriend," Eddie said... and once again, Richie was caught off guard. "I don't mean to bring it up; just in since we're on the subject..."

"I brought it up first," Richie pointed out, and grinned again. "I'm just kinda flattered that you've been watching my videos for that long. That was a little while ago."

"Mine was too," Eddie teased, and he had Richie there. "Well, not a year ago, but at least a few months. But you get the gist."

Eddie stood up off the coffee table and sat beside Richie on the couch, in since the latter was sitting upright again. "It's kind of crazy, though," Eddie said, and he glanced over at Richie. He could feel the heat radiating from Eddie's legs; it made him feel cozy. Comfortable.

"What's that?" Richie asked.

"It's crazy how much we can learn about each other through a screen. Like, this is our very first conversation, and we know that we both got dumped--because we watched each other's videos. Isn't that crazy, and kinda cool?"

"Kinda scary, too," Richie agreed.

"Yeah," Eddie echoed, sort of how he did in the dream. "Kinda scary, too. But on YouTube, there's a certain level of vulnerability that you show to people... I dunno. It's just... really interesting."

"You're really interesting, Freckles," Richie teased, and he swallowed when Eddie actually looked at him with a grin.

"You are too, Trashmouth--I just decided that. Do you want to go to my room? I can show you my set-up."

"Sure! Don't see why not! Lead the way."

Richie had never been so excited to see somebody's recording setup more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stan: *glances over at Eddie* he's so gORGEOUS WHAT THE FUCK  
> Eddie:(◠‿◠✿) ♡!!


	3. 7-Way Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discord.  
> As in a group chat, I mean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> flksjfoefiojf there are those other losers//
> 
> also i just wanted to let u lovely people know that i love michael hanlon. like......

Eddie's room, as lame as Richie felt thinking it, was just as pretty as he was.

He had white walls, but had a pink light bulb so the room could have a rosy hue. He lined fake flowers along his headboard, he had fairy lights and Polaroids, he had an entire vanity cabinet with the circle bulbs. And there lay his setup. His camera was really high quality, too, and he and Richie sat on his bed and talked about the specs of it for a little while. Okay, so this kid wasn't an airhead. Obviously. He knew his stuff.

They heard Bill and Stan laughing in the other room, and they instinctively scooted closer to each other on the bed. Eddie had glanced over at Richie, and the latter was trying hard to avoid looking him in the eye. He may blush then... and he had already made himself feel like enough of a jackass for one day.

"So what happened between you and her?" Eddie asked. "You and... Angela?"

"Sandra," Richie corrected, and he grinned. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Close, but no cigar. But yeah, I met her on--don't laugh--Omegle. We talked for a while, hee-hee, haha, yadda yadda. Like, we were messaging back and forth, and we finally decided to meet up. We moved in together, and I was gonna propose to her. It was nice--I _thought._ But get this: the day I was going to propose to her--the _day,_ Eddie--she dumped me."

"Aw, why?" Eddie asked. His eyebrows furrowed.

"She never really gave me a reason. Well, nah, lemme not lie to you--now that I think about it, she gave me a reason. She gave me _more_ than one. I was loud, I was annoying, I was opinionated, she didn't like my family, she couldn't see herself spending the rest of her life with me."

"Oh," Eddie muttered. He put his hand on Richie's knee. "Christ, that sucks... I'm sorry."

"Ah. It's okay, babe. I'm a tough cookie."

Eddie offered him up a smile--one of those pretty smiles he seemed skilled at producing. He dangled his legs off the edge of the bed, and Richie felt that same heat radiating from his thighs. He wanted to touch them, lay his head on them, feel the warmth from them, maybe take a nap with his head in his lap.

"It kinda reminds me of the whole disaster that was _my_ relationship," Eddie said, and they both snickered.

"Yeah, what about that?" Richie asked. They didn't really feel too awkward talking about this, Richie figured--they had already learned about it on the Internet. Might as well get the entire story, in real time, from the source.

"Remember how I said he wasn't too good to me?" Eddie started. "He really wasn't. Like, he was possessive and controlling. He didn't like me dressing a certain way, acting a certain way. He didn't want me to hang out with Bev, or Megan, or Shelbie, or Shanita. He fucking _hated_ Bill. He thought we were in love or something. But Bill is just my best friend, y'know? It's _nothing_ like that. It's never been like that."

"What, he think he _owned_ you or something?" Richie pressed on. He was again overwhelmed with the urge to meet this motherfucker and deck him in the nose. "Like, chill the fuck out, my guy."

"Right!" Eddie said, and sighed. "And I guess so. I told him: 'Honey, I'm not owned by anybody but _Eddie_. So you can take that somewhere else.' Then he really flipped his shit. He thought that meant I didn't love him or something. He told me he was going to beat my ass. I told him: 'Try it; the cops will be up here. Have fun in jail.' He said: 'you're crazy.' _I_ said 'oh, really?', and he left. _Then_ he had the audacity to cheat on me."

"Sounds like a real work of art," Richie said. "The Dream, honestly."

"Yep! Karma's a bitch, though."

"Biggest bitch I've ever met," Richie said, and grinned, and Eddie grinned. "But tell him to try that shit around me and lose his life."

Eddie giggled, and the slightest blush rose in his face. " _Aw._ You're sweet. But it's okay, though! He got what he deserved. Bill took care of him for me. He hasn't tried to talk to me since."

It was Richie's turn to laugh. He was shocked to comedic measures from the statement. "Wait. Pump the motherfucking breaks. Bill, PaperBoatPrince, beat the shit outta this guy. _Bill._ "

Eddie smirked and snapped his fingers twice with flair. "Mmhmm."

"And I enjoyed every last minute of it," Bill said in his slow gait, making the two of them jump. Bill and Stan were standing in Eddie's doorway, and the former had a big smile plastered on his face. _There's something scary about that,_ Richie thought. _How nice and sweet he seems, like he wouldn't hurt a damn fly. But he would break somebody's ankles for his friends, in a heartbeat._ His eyes widened. _Mad respect._

"Sorry to ruin the confessional," Stan added, trying to make his voice as flat and apathetic as possible... but Richie could see his half-smile. "I just came to retrieve my friend. You ready, Rich? To go home, I mean."

"Aw, _boooo!_ We just got here--"

"--three hours ago," Stan finished, and Bill covered his mouth with one hand so he could laugh. What did these two silly motherfuckers know that he didn't? "I know you wanna stay here with your boyfriend and all, but I'm tired, man."

Richie gave an over-exaggerated grumble and made a great effort to pull himself off Eddie's bed (who he earned another laugh from). "Fine, okay, I'm coming. _Dad._ "

"Good boy," Stan said, and Bill and Eddie grinned and gave each other knowing glances (were they knowing glances?). They all exchanged numbers, and Stan and Richie decided that they made good friends on this maiden voyage. As they drove back home, Richie fell asleep again... but this time, he was doped up on the lingering smell of Eddie's cologne.

* * *

"Stan! We're in a group chat now!" Richie called, from the kitchen.

"I see," Stan called back. Richie heard the soft pitter-patter of Stan's feet as he made his way into the kitchen himself. He had his phone in his hand, the Discord app already open. Richie put his head on Stan's shoulder from behind and they peered into the screen together, the phone brightness lighting up their faces.

 **The ~ _YouTube is Screwing Us Over Club~_** **chat**

 **PaperBoatBill:** Hey guys I added Teezy and Stan!!!

 

"Wait, pause," Stan said, and he chuckled a little. "You didn't ask him to call you 'Teezy', did you?"

"What if I did?" Richie asked, trying to sound innocent. "What if it was a special request?"

"I'm going to die," Stan said, and they both jumped again as a series of notifications pinged on Stan's phone.

 **Eddie :✿** Hiii guys!!!

 

"There's your boyfriend," Stan perked up, and pointed to Eddie's name pop up in the chat as if Richie _surely had not_ seen it. Richie bared his teeth and turned his head to the side, ready to take a big chomp on Stan's neck.

"Don't bite me!" Stan warned.

"It's what you deserve!" Richie exclaimed back.

The other notifications went as follows:

 **shut-up-bev:** yoooo it's trashmouth tozier! it's lit!!! wassup guys!

 **winter_fires:** hey guys! i'm ben!

 **8BitMichael:** welcome richie and stan! hey stan, i'm such a big fan :-)

 

"It's CraftQueen!" Stan exclaimed, pointing to (what appeared to be) the only fine young lady in the chat. "Holy shit!" Stan instantly knew who she was right off the bat, but Richie didn't too much... her name sounded familiar, though. That was right. Eddie said that motherfucker didn't let him see a bunch of his lady friends. And he had a friend named Bev, wasn't that right? He assumed that it was the same Bev.

"Hey! I know 8BitMichael," Richie said. He felt relieved that he recognized somebody, at least. Michael, like Bill and Richie, liked to play video games. Richie had heard of him because of his Let's Plays. Stan had heard of him because of his Modern History videos. They were exactly how they sounded: Michael would explain historical events with skits and everyday vernacular. And Stan thought they were _hilarious._

(God, call a spade a spade--they were both nerds. _Cool_ nerds, but nerds nonetheless.)

As a matter of fact, he knew who Winter Fires was too, even before Ben had introduced himself. The man could build anything; he built treehouses and made tutorials on miniature-scale houses and designed floor plans for bigger houses. And he built birdhouses too (Stan _also_ knew who Ben was, for this fact). He used to be the King of the Mukbang ™\--that is, the guy could eat _a lot_ of food. (10k Calorie in a Day Challenge? That was _crazy!_ ) But he retired his crown after he switched to vegetarianism. That crown was collecting dust in a closet somewhere, and his mukbang weight got left behind.

"What does Bev do?" Richie asked, and he bounced up and down on his feet. That wasn't a stupid question, was it?

"DIYs," Stan answered. "Honestly, she's the reason how I know how to sew a single damn thing. She makes most of her own clothes. She makes tutorials and sells her patterns. And she does makeup, too. She's awesome."

"Hell yeah!" Richie exclaimed, and he ran to his room to go get his phone. As he was walking back into the kitchen, he saw that Stan had sent a message in the chat.

 

 **Stan the Man:** Hello everybody. It's an honor and a pleasure. Thanks for adding us, Bill. And thank you, Michael. I'm a big fan of yours', too!

 

Stan and his perfect grammar. Yikes.

Richie snickered as he typed his reply, sending it right before he made it to the kitchen. When he met Stan back there, Stan looked up at him, smiled only slightly, and shook his head.

 

 **flashy n trashy:** ayyyyeeee what's poppin y'all!

 

"Not professional at all," Stan said, matter-of-factly. Richie let out a series of little giggles before he responded.

"But _Staaaaan._ Professional's no fun."

The conversation in the group chat went for the rest of the night, the seven of them all just getting to know each other (Bill had made the chat a few days ago and added everybody else, Richie and Stan had just learned), in since they were all pretty much strangers. Well, that was a half-lie, wasn't it? Eddie had helped Bill make the chat, and Richie obviously already knew Stan.

On top of that, Bill and Michael had done collabs together--a read-along of a book and playing games. And he also knew Ben just as well as he knew Richie: not very well, but well enough. They were friends on social media. Ben and Michael also knew each other--pretty well, as a matter of fact. They joked around in each other's comments, and were always super nice to each other on social media, but they hadn't yet met face-to-face.

Eddie and Bev were already super close--on the Internet as well as in real life. Apparently, Bev and Eddie went way back; they met at around the same time that Eddie had met Bill. They hit it off instantly, and Bev even took a liking towards Eddie's female best friend, Shanita.

Hm. So it _was_ the same Bev that Eddie was talking about. As well as the same Shanita. Eddie had brought up other girls that he was friends with, too. Megan and... Selena, right?

No, that wasn't it... Whatever! It wasn't important.

At around the end of the night, Bill had not only PMed Richie, but he had _also_ proposed an idea in the chat:

 

 **PaperBoatBill:** U guys know what we should do if we're all free??? Lunch! All of us. Wouldn't that be fun?

 **shut-up-bev:** i'm not recording anything until thurs. i'm game!

 **Stan the Man:** Haha. Sounds fun to me.

 **Eddie :✿ **Ohhh yay fun!!!

 **flashy n trashy:** i mean i GUESS

 **winter_fires:** yo! i'm game

 **8BitMichael:** sounds super groovy to me :-)

 **PaperBoatBill:** Awesome! That was easier than I thought!!! Lmao I thought I was going to have to do some persuading ; )

 **PaperBoatBill:** When's a good day for everybody???

 **Stan the Man:** I'm free tomorrow, actually.

 **shut-up-bev:** shit!!! me too

 **winter_fires:** i got errands to run in the morning...... but i'm free all afternoon B-)

 **8BitMichael:** i'm free literally all day tomorrow :-)

 **winter_fires:** that's bc ur lame mike

 **8BitMichael:** YA MAMA LAME

 **winter_fires:** yeahhhh she kinda is..... next!

 **Stan the Man:** The shade.

 **flashy n trashy:** i dunno who to give the icy pack to tbh

 **flashy n trashy:** for those burns

 **flashy n trashy:** i'm free for a 7 way date 2morrow btw

 **PaperBoatBill:** LMAO YAY

 **PaperBoatBill:** Eddieeeeee are u free??

 **Eddie :✿** Hmm. Idk. Come in my room and ask me!!!!

 **PaperBoatBill:** Aw, I love u too!

 **PaperBoatBill:** It's settled then!! 2morrow, at noon!

 

And like Bill said, it was settled. Everyone agreed that noon was a fine and dandy time to have a seven-way date. Richie figured that he would try to go to sleep now, why he was ahead, so he wouldn't be completely tired and gassed on the date. Not only did he have to impress Eddie now, but he _also_ had to impress three new people (which he could totally do with his hands tied behind his back--no biggie!).

What? Did he say "impress Eddie"? What he meant to say was: " _Not_ impress Eddie, because he's not super caught up on him or anything like that because they've only had one conversation and that's stupid". _That's_ what he meant.

Okay.

He knew he was full of shit. It just kind of surprised him how easily Bill was able to _pick up on the fact_ that he was full of shit. Because the PM that Bill sent him said:

 

 **PaperBoatBill:** Don't pass out 2morrow when u see Eddie ; )

 **flashy n trashy:**?????

 **PaperBoatBill:** His fav colors are pink and yellow, just to let u yell-know!!!

 **flashy n trashy:** okay big bill 1) i'm the king of shitty puns and

 **flashy n trashy:** 2) i ain't gonna pass out why would i? lmao

 **PaperBoatBill:** Don't pull at my leg here

 **PaperBoatBill:** U like him, don't u???

**flashy n trashy:**

**flashy n trashy:** shit am i that obvious

 **PaperBoatBill:** YEAH HAHA

 **PaperBoatBill:** Stan told me u were giving him ur "make love to u eyes" and tbh I could see it!

 **flashy n trashy:** uris. damn. knew i couldn't trust him

 **flashy n trashy:** but in all seriousness. i just think he's cute

 **flashy n trashy:** sweet

 **PaperBoatBill:** U didn't hear this from me.... but he may or may not think ur cute as well!

 **flashy n trashy:** wait did he say that

 **PaperBoatBill:** ; )

 **PaperBoatBill:** Anyway gotta run toodles see u 2morrow!!!

 **flashy n trashy:** ur just gonna leave me out to dry like that. okay

 **flashy n trashy:** i'm hurt bill. betrayed

 **PaperBoatBill:** Awww poor Rich <3

 

Richie rolled his eyes half-heartedly, tossed his phone to the other side of his bed, and turned to lay on his back. He stared up at the ceiling, watching the blades of his fan rotate around like a laundry spin-cycle. He was so... Eddie was so cute, and he actually made him feel giddy and nervous. Again, he posed the question: _what the fuck for?  You're just gonna have one whole ass conversation with someone. And now you're acting like you're in love and shit? Why?_

He didn't know. It made him a little frustrated and frazzled and angry. But that didn't make him gain any more understanding than what he already had.

Yep. He didn't know at all. But even though pink and yellow were really not his colors, guess who was going to wear it tomorrow?

 _This guy,_ he thought with dismay, and pointed at himself with both of his thumbs.

 _Both_ of them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie: why did it seem like Bill was flirting with me


	4. One Hell of a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what's also crazy? How fast word spreads around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they should make a smoker's club, the three of them//
> 
> edit: wait! THAT’S who my headcannon for older eds is! kickthepj!

The lunch date was going well, splendid and pleasant, and everybody fell into natural ease. Richie felt this this weird energy, he _buzzed_ with it, this feeling of coming home.

 _Yeah, I'm home,_ he thought. _Me and Stan, we're finally home, and these are our friends._

It was a warm, fluttery buzzing; loud enough for him to almost hear it, but quiet enough to be able to hear the numerous different conversations going on around him:

"...Yeah, bats aren't birds. Really surprised when I found out they _weren't._ They're actually mammals. Because they don't lay eggs. Isn't that cool?"

"Yeah! Geez, I always thought they were rodents."

"I did too... hm. No wonder I don't build bat-houses." Laughter.

"I'm still working on the ma-a-an--sorry--the manuscript for it. I've got some working titles for it...but they all sound so _stupid._ I'm probably gonna go with _The Black Rapids."_

"That's not stupid, Big Bill. I like it! And don't apologize for the stutter. _You're killing it!_ "

"Aw Bev, stop. You're making me blush." He beamed.

"I fucks with Kendrick Lamar, and J Cole, and even--" a little bit of laughter. "And even Lil Uzi Vert."

"Yo! Lil Uzi is _fire,_ though!"

"I have _no idea_ what you guys are talking about. Enlighten me. Is 'fucking' with something a good thing or a bad thing? It's good, right?"

"Yeah! Like, you... ah, you vibe with it really well. You like it a whole lot. And when you 'fucks heavy' with it, you... you _really_ like it. See, like... I fucks _mad heavy_ with you, Stan."

Stan giggled. Not laughed, friends and neighbors-- _giggled._ It was an eerie sound that Richie rarely ever heard. 

But his _favorite_ conversation was:

"Even though people say that Tylenol _most likely_ won't kill you, it could still be fatal because you could develop acetaminophen toxicity."

" _The toxicity of our city--_ whoops. I'm real sorry, Eds; trying to listen to you... but ADHD, amirite? And my concentration is _also_ being thrown off because of your sweet little accent. Did you know you had one?"

"People have told me that before, yeah." A tiny scrunched-up confused face, with a crinkle between the eyebrows.

"You got _just_ a slight one. Where your family from?"

"We're Italian."

" _Italian?_ _Cute_ _!_ You're a little Eddie Spaghetti!"

"Don't fucking call me that. _Or_ Eds."

"Aww, _boooo._ Don't like it? You didn't say anything about it earlier." A grin.

"I let it slide. Where's _your_ family from?"

"My old lady is Puerto Rican. My old man dad is white. Mom's name is Margarita, but we just call her Maggie--hey, you know what? That gives me an idea. We should do like my parents: get that interracial love flowing."

"Oh, my god. Shut _up._ " Even though he was trying to hide it, the ghost of a smile.

* * *

The rest of their 7-way-date went in this manner: them having clusters of conversations, then conversing as a group, then breaking off again into their own personal chatter. They ate and laughed and all got to know each other. Bev and Eddie had brought their cameras, and Richie understood (a little belatedly) that they were vlogging. He didn't mind. But he _did_ feel like a jackass--for a little while--because he had been flirting with Eddie _all day_ and didn't even realize that his camera was on. (Even though he and Bev had pointed their cameras at him and said: "Look who it is! It's TrashmouthTozier!")

Eddie had caught him off-guard once--he finally took the plunge and laid his head in Eddie's lap, which was as warm and lovely as he had thought it would be, and Eddie had pointed the camera down on his face and said _"Hi, Richie!"_

 _"Eddie!"_ He yelled back, and covered his eyes with his hands. But he was all smiles. "Christ!"

But the most fantastical moment of the entire day was when Eddie was sitting in his lap (ya hear that, lovely people? _His lap_ ) and he had taken the camera from Eddie's soft, warm hands and aimed it at his own face. He was rambling about how "Eddie Spaghetti is _totally my boyfriend_ and I love him _soooooo much._ Also, y'all should check out my channel. It's youtube.com/users/TrashmouthTozier--"

"Shut up! Don't tell people that!" Eddie exclaimed, and tried to grab the camera away from Richie with his Small Italian Hands™. "And _don't_ call me that!"

Richie snickered. "I'll stop calling you that if you give me _a kiss on the lips._ " He puckered up for emphasis.

Eddie gave his signature Half-Hearted Eye Roll™... but he had blushed--Richie could see it. "Nuh-uh. A kiss on the cheek is all you get. It's all you _deserve_." 

Which, Richie thought he was bullshitting him... but he closed his eyes and cupped Richie's face in his hands and gave him a kiss on the cheek as promised, _close_ to his mouth, with an audible _mmmwah._ "You heathen. Happy now?"

_"Very,"_ Richie answered. But his voice sounded all high and creaky, and all the playfulness was sucked right out of his body. 

_Yeah... I'm a heathen, baby,_ his traitorous mind thought again, on impulse. _I'm one_ hell _of a good time._

 

 

Bev had popped up from the wooden table they were all sitting at and declared that she was going to "be right back. I gotta go take a smoke". To which Richie got up and stood beside her. 

"Ya filled with wonderful ideas, missus," he told her, in a weird amalgamation of a New Yorker Voice and a Rush Limbaugh, and she laughed and punched him lightly in the arm. Richie grinned at her and threw up the deuces. "See you suckers in approximately 5-10 minutes!" 

So him and Bev had went over to a basketball court and leaned up against the goal (Bill hadn't told them that this was going to be an outside lunch date, but nobody seemed to mind). They were far enough away that they wouldn't bother the others with their smoke and they wouldn't hear them, but close enough to where they could still see them in the distance.

Richie patted his pockets and fiddled out a cigarette from his box. Then, he felt around some more... and realized that he didn't have the component that would actually allow him to smoke.

"Shit. Beverly, my sweet girl... ya got a light?"

"Did you not go to Smoker's Ed?" Bev quipped at him playfully. "A smoker should try their hardest to _never_ forget their lighter. _Geez, Richard._ They teach you that on like, the first day."

"Hey. I wouldn't know. I always skipped class," Richie said, and winked at her, they couldn't help but to let out a few chucks. Bev lit her cigarette, and then leaned in close to Richie so they could share the flame. 

"Thank ya kindly, darlin'," he said. 

"You're welcome-- _I guess,_ " she said, with a grin.

They smoked in silence for a little while, maybe a couple of minutes, until they were almost both down to little tobacco stubs. Then, Bev spoke up: "Okay, so be real with me, Tozier. I gotta know. The curiosity is _killin' me._ "

"What you talking bout, woman?" Richie said, going for a DMX Voice.

She caught him off guard:

"You like Eddie, don't you?"

" _What? Oh, come on!_ I didn't know it was so easy to see through my fucking front! Do I _really_ make it that obvious?"

Bev laughed. "It's not a very strong front, to my defense. And yes. Yes you do." 

"How? Bill never told me how! I just wanna know, so I can be more on the DL."

"I don't think there's much you can do in that regard, My Dear Tozier. Eddie's already catchin' on, so you're screwed. He pulled me in earlier and whispered in my ear, he said: 'Bevvie, do you think that Richie likes me? Or is that, like, wishful thinking?'" 

"Wait, wishful thinking...?" Richie said, in a dazed sort of stupor.

"But to answer your question, 'how do I make it that obvious'... like, come on, dude. You're not fooling anybody." She smirked. "It's hard _not_ to catch onto it. With all your nicknames and your teasing him and pinching _his_ cheeks and asking for kisses on _yours'_."

" _No,_ I asked him for a kiss on the _lips._ "

"Drives my point home."

Richie cursed himself. "Wait, shit--"

Bev laughed, and like they had telepathy, both her and Richie pulled out another cigarette. She did the same routine: lighting her's first, then leaning into Richie and letting the flame of her's light his. She looked off into the distance where the others were sitting, and saw a tiny blue-and-denim dot grow closer and closer. "Here comes Michael."

Michael approached them, smiling down on them, and they made room for him to sit next to Richie. Bev leaned her arm over Richie, a clean cigarette posed between her index and middle finger. "Hey, Mike! Want a smoke?"

He smiled. "Oh, yeah. Thank you very much." He took the cigarette from Bev's hands--gently, as if not to hurt her, or the cigarette, Richie guessed--and pulled out a red lighter.

Bev extended her arms with her palms facing upward in a _see what I mean?_ gesture. She verbalized it, too: "See? What did I tell you? It's good smoker etiquette to _always_ have a light." 

"Okay, Marsh. I'll remember that the next time you don't have a light," Richie said. She rolled her eyes playfully, and Mike laughed.

"So what are you guys over here talking about?" Mike asked, and then broke out into a smile. He looked directly at Richie. "How much you like Eddie?"

Richie smirked. "Yeah, actually. And the next topic we're gonna cover is how much _you_ like Stan."

"Great," Mike said with a laugh, but Richie could see the hues of red and pink flush his face. "It don't bother me any." 

"Oh, yeah? Is that so? Then why you blushing so hard?"

"Hey, boys! Simmer down!" Bev said, the beginnings of a cackle approaching.

Mike's sweet smile turned into a teasing grin. "The difference between you and me, Richie, is I'm not scared to admit that I like your friend. Matter-of-fact, I like him _a whole lot._ I'm not ashamed."

_"Oh yeah?"_ Richie echoed again, shooting his voice up a register. _"Is that so?"_ He pointed over to the table where the others were sitting, directly at Stan. "Then go over right now and tell him. He's right there!" 

Mike laughed again, and raised his hands up in front of his face in a sort of warding-off gesture. "Nah! Nah!"

Beverly burst into laughter; the kind of laughter that made her double over and slap her thigh. _"Leave him alone, Richie!"_ she yelled.

Richie, still grinning, whipped his head around to look at Bev. "And why are _you_ laughing, ya skirt? I saw you flirting with Big Bill. You wanna go over there and tell him that you like _him?_ "

"That time of my life is over," Bev said, getting the last bit of her giggles out. "My crush for PaperBoatPrince is no more. He has a girlfriend already. Not only that, but Shan would _kill me_ if she thought I was flirting with him."

"Shanita, right?" Richie asked. "That your girlfriend?"

"Yep!" Bev said, and she smirked with pride.

"Is she a sista?" Mike added, and then giggled at himself using the terminology.

Bev's smirk stayed on her face as she winked at the two of them, and pulled out her phone. She pulled out her phone and unlocked it, showing them the home screen. "See for yourself."

Mike smiled. "She's pretty! I like the natural hair."

"Me too," Bev mused. "It's fluffy as shit."

"Yo! You guys what know what this means?" Richie asked suddenly. Mike and Bev whipped their heads to the side to look at him. Bev raised her eyebrows in a nonverbal _hmm?_

"It means," Richie continued, barely able to contain his smirk, "that we're all a part of the _Interracial Love Club._ "

"Shut the hell up," Bev said, and her laugh came back again, full force... and Richie blushed like an idiot, because when she said that, she sounded almost _exactly_ like Eddie.

 

After everybody went home, and texted in the group chat how much of a good time they had; after Bev and Eddie edited their vlogs, did jump-cuts for them and added music and thumbnails and pretty font, after they uploaded them to their channels... after _all of that_ is when the comments started.

They started on Eddie's channel, and they started late at night--when Stan and Richie were in their apartment, cozy and tucked in bed. This was the first night that Richie had been able to fall asleep instantly in _months_ \--and they started _fast._ Eddie and Bev had both shot different footage, so they were both two completely different vlogs... but Eddie, of course, didn't edit out too much.

He didn't edit out the things with him and Richie, no. He didn't edit out sitting on his lap, or Richie's head in his lap, or jumping on Richie's back for a piggyback ride while he screamed and told him the dangers of breaking some bone if Richie dropped him. And he _most certainly_ didn't edit out that kiss that he gave Richie on the cheek.

So the comments, it seemed, were going to come sooner or later. He thought about it later, as him and Bill were in _their_ apartment, cozy and tucked in bed. He thought: _Oh, damn. People may think that Richie's my boyfriend because of the way we act._ Which, when he felt a fluttering in his chest that wasn't from his asthma, decided that it wasn't such a bad thing.

 _I'm sure somebody will point it out,_ he thought.

He just didn't know they would point it out so _fast._

**omg eddie ur so beautiful!!!! u and richie are so cute together <3**

**Eddie!!! Is that your boyfriend? (TrashmouthTozier I mean)**

**I'M SCREAMING IT'S RICHIE I LOVE HIM are you guys dating???**

**You guys are all so cute. I love all of your channels. Question..... are you and Richard a thing?**

**EDDIE AND RICHIE LFJIOFJIFOEFIOL I SHIP IT**

**does trash mouth tozier like u????**

**You guys would b such a cute couple!**

And it went on and on. Even Eddie didn't know how severe it was, initially. Bill was actually the one that pointed it out to him, in the morning. And he started out with "Eddie... _holy shit."_

Now, on Richie's front? He knew that numerous people could see through his (not so strong, according to Bev) front. He knew that Bill and Bev and Stan and Mike could see through him like a clean window.

What he _didn't know,_ however, is that 7 billion people would be able to see through him as well.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie: shit now I'm nervous again. Ya got ANOTHER light?


	5. Are You Reddie?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hold it steady.  
> "As in, hold your head steady so I can knock the shit out of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haven't i made that title joke before,,,,,, *pondering emoji*

Before Richie got the call, everything was good as advertised.

Him and Stan had woken up the morning after their 7-way-date, their hearts still full and heavy and minds racing with the idea of _coming home,_ both laughing and smiling and filled with good vibes. Normally, the two of them would sit on the couch, side-by-side, both of their computers in their laps, to edit videos. And maybe Stan would make them something as neat and clean as his attire to eat: green tea and two pieces of toast for both.

But today, they weren't really having any of that. Richie just guessed they were still doped up on that buzzing feeling. They had done their usual side-by-side, and edited... for a little while. Then Stan said "fuck this", typed something into his search engine, stood up, and put his laptop on the couch's empty space. He looked at Richie, smiled one of his Half Smiles, extended his hands. Richie took them.

Wait. Music.

He was playing music.

Richie grinned. Stan didn't like spontaneity-- _unless_ he was in a really good mood. He ran to the kitchen, poured two shots of blueberry vodka, ran back and handed one to Stan. They would play some songs by MGMT and Phoenix and Tame Impala and Two Door Cinema Club--some of Stan's favorites. Then they would switch it up, Richie's style: Iron Maiden and Sublime and Pink Floyd and Guns & Roses. And take another shot. They both danced like two tipsy idiots, Stan's curls whipping from side-to-side around his face. Maybe there was a such thing as platonic romance or whatever the fuck, because Richie thought he was beautiful.

He smiled.

And then his phone rang.

Richie stumbled over-exaggeratedly over to the phone and answered it, not looking to see who it was. "Yellow--"

 _"Richard Amadeus Tozier,"_ the person on the other line snapped, and they sounded like somebody's stern dad. Their voice was high and tiny and cute--but theywere _angry._ It reminded Richie of a baby lion, or a peacock right before it butts heads with other another male and bears its' feathers.

Aw, how cute. It just registered to Richie, right at that moment, who was on the phone. Eddie was pissed, and it was kind of scary (Richie wondered what he did to deserve being executed by guillotine)... but wasn't he just the _cutest?_

"Wow, baby. We're soulmates after all," Richie slurred, only slightly. "You know my middle name."

"Yeah. It's 'cause I watch your Q & A videos, dumbass. _Speaking_ of that, have you even _been_ on YouTube lately?"

"Hm," Richie said simply. He pondered this. "Not... not today, no. What about it? _Ooh,_ by the way... your voice is so cute, Eds. Cute cute _cute._ "

"Focus," Eddie told him, and he could hear the snap of his fingers. "Go on YouTube. My vlog from yesterday. Look at those comments and get back to me." He sighed. "Do it _now,_ please."

And then he hung up.

Huh. Maybe he wasn't in the mood for cute playful banter today.

Well, no matter. Richie didn't mind him being fiesty. Up until this point, he had only seen Eddie as just downright adorable. But now, with this fire that he must've swallowed overnight (or maybe he always had an oil lamp inside him, and Richie just never noticed)... that cuteness was shifting to _fucking hot._ For some reason, it was exciting and arousing and sexy. He kind of wanted to "forget" to read those comments, just so Eddie would cuss him out again.

But then he _really_ wouldn't have a head.

So he sat back down on the couch and did exactly what that little lion told him to do.

And as soon as he made it to the comments, the first question that he asked was:

"Stan... what the hell is 'Reddie'?"

* * *

Eddie was going to pass out, have an asthma attack, or go into anaphylactic shock. Maybe all three. And him pacing back and forth in the living room, inhaler tight in his right hand, and Bill's laugh echoing through the apartment, it felt like he was in Purgatory.

"Aw, Eddie--it's not _that_ bad," Bill was trying to say, but he couldn't even get the sentence out in one cohesive string. "I mean, you and Richie _are_ really lovey dovey. I would think you were dating, too."

Eddie stopped pacing and turned around on his heels. "But it's _his_ fault! He's the one that always flirts with _me_ , compliments me, fucks with _me._ I don't fuck with him! When he says shit, I just... roll with it! And also, _he's_ the one who said all that stuff. And asked for that kiss! If he would've never said that, we wouldn't even be in this mess right now!"

"Haha. You know what this reminds me of, Bunny?"

"What."

Bill had finally stopped laughing, but his eyes still crinkled from a smile. "Whenever I started dating Audra. People bombarding my comments with that. It seemed like it didn't matter what game I played or whatever--nobody was paying attention to that. Every comment was, 'oh, are you dating Audra Phillips? That's your girlfriend, right? PBP, you have a _girlfriend?_ ' and _I_ couldn't breathe. _She_ couldn't breathe. And people would blow up her Instagram."

"But people were _mean_ to her," Eddie said, rather miserably, and sat on the couch next to Bill. "People are already telling me not to date Richie, and I'm not even _actually_ dating the guy. They're like: 'Oh, he's annoying.' 'Oh, he's an asshole.' 'Oh, don't date him.' It's ridiculous."

"Aw, man. What about his fans? What are they saying about you?"

"I looked on the video he posted last night. They're all in his comments, too. But that's the thing... they're not really saying anything super mean about me. If anything at all. A lot of _his_ fans are just wondering the same thing that _mine_ are: if we're dating. But then they're all calling me pretty, or hot. So far. So I don't know."

"Well, you _are_ pretty," Bill offered up, and his smile widened. Then, he snickered. " _'Oh, he's an asshole.'_   That's funny. I don't think he's an asshole. What don't they like, his humor? Okay. But come on. His fucking username is TrashmouthTozier. What did they really expect?"

"I dunno," Eddie said, and he finally smiled and laughed himself. But then, the good mood disappeared as soon as it appeared. "I just... I just don't want people to be mean to him, Bill."

"Aww, Bunny. Don't tell me that you actually like him back."

Eddie's entire face flushed at the drop of a hat.

 _“What? No! I mean, yes! Maybe? Who cares?"_ He huffed and looked off to the side, trying to pout.

Bill laughed again. He waggled his eyebrows.

Eddie inhaled, exhaled, looked back at Bill. "I mean... he's not always goofing off and playing around. Sometimes, he's actually really sweet. Like, when I first met him, when him and Stan came over... we were talking about relationships and he told me about his ex and I told him about Juanito. And he said that he would beat Juanito up for me. I just... I dunno. I just thought that was..." his blush deepened on his face. "Uh, really cute."

"They're calling it 'Reddie'," Bill said.

 _"Yes, Turtle--I know they're calling it 'Reddie'!"_ Eddie huffed again, and clenched his fists up into small tight balls. He had had _enough_ embarrassment for one day.

And you want to know what Bill did? The motherfucker laughed _again._

Eddie wanted to slap him-- _and_ Richie--in the fucking face.

 

The group chat that Stan and Richie was apart of with their YouTube friends (or co-workers, depending on how you looked at it), was active that same night. Everybody was chatting, having a good time, having a few chucks. But it was Bev who asked the fated question:

 

 **shut-up-bev:** did yall know that people are shipping eddie and richie lmao

 

Richie almost spit out his drink. Now this? _(And give me some slack when I say this; I haven't said this in like,_ two whole entire chapters _)..._ This was by far the _most_ chuckalicious thing he had heard _all year._ People shipping him with some cute guy that he was into anyway? _Sign me the fuck up!_ Honestly, he didn't give a damn at all. At least Eddie wasn't ugly. Now that would be a real shame, boys and girls.

More notifications came through:

 

 **PaperBoatBill:** I KNOW POOR GUYS LMAO

 **PaperBoatBill:** BUT IT'S CUTE

 **winter_fires:** yeah i've seen it's crazy! ppl asked me on my channel are yall dating lmao

 **Eddie ✿:** Oh my fucking god

 **Stan the Man:** Yeah, Rich and I found out this morning that people were doing that. Haha

 **Stan the Man:** He's getting quite a kick out of it.

 **flashy and trashy:** AYEEEEE ily mr. tozier ;-*

 **Eddie ✿:** Stop that stupid shit

 **8BitMichael:** LMAO there's already fanart guys

 

A picture message came through, sent by Lebron James himself. It was a cute little fanart; Richie with his head in Eddie's lap, wearing his pink and yellow (pink plaid, yellow shirt) and his skinny jeans, Eddie with a camera in one hand and some of Richie's black curls in the other, and they were both smiling. Is that how they looked at the park on their 7-way-date? If so, then they looked _pretty damn cute._

And then Mike sent another one: this one had Eddie with his hands on either side of Richie's face, his eyes closed, his lips directly on one of Richie's cheeks. Richie was blushing and smiling in the picture, and there were speech bubbles in a pretty handwriting. The first one said:

_There. You heathen. Happy now?_

And the other said: _Very._

That one was _really_ cute. But damn. Had he actually blushed when Eddie kissed him?

Because if he did, then he would feel like a jack... you guys know the rest.

With all of this going on, Richie didn't want to admit it--but he was in paradise. He always flirted and teased people that he liked; that's what he always did. And he took it if they teased him back, then they were flirting, and if they were flirting... that they liked him. The fact that people were even shipping them enough gave Richie the idea that him and Eddie really did tease each other a lot, and obviously. And he liked Eddie _a lot._.. that meant Eddie liked him too, right?

Damn these fans. They were putting thoughts in his head, that they drew (and wrote about! Isn't that wild?) of cuddling and Eskimo kisses and even more kisses on the cheeks ( _and on the_ _lips,_ good people) and taking Eddie on cute two-way dates and not seven-way ones (even though that was a blast), and picking Eddie up and twirling him around and holding his hand.

Neighborhoods away, Eddie was stressed out. It was a weird, buzzing, headache-y type of stress. He wasn't stressed in the regards of _shit, how are we going to make these rumors stop?_ (in since he had already determined that people thinking Richie was his man wasn't so bad). He was stressed in the regards that the fanart and the fanfiction and the comments just kept growing and growing, seemingly overnight.

And guess what? Maybe he actually _did_ want to do all of that stuff with Richie.

And even though he was pissed to the moon earlier, he couldn't even blame Richie for all of it. He had been lenient with Richie's antics. And he had done some flirting too, hoping that he wouldn't get too snappy or naggy and that he didn't push Richie away. Hoping that Richie would steal glances at his legs and catch onto his own glances that lingered a little too longly. And he did, he had. And maybe--this sounded crazy to him, but maybe it was true--maybe he had _hoped_ that this would happen, and that his fans would give him an outpouring of love and support when it did.

He wanted Richie. He wanted him _badly_. And not just in the romantic sense. Shit, he wanted to do the Mashed Potato with him in the sheets. But if that man thought all he had to do was flirt him up and give him a few compliments, and have him fawning all over him... then he had _another_ thing coming. Eddie was a lot of things (studious, polite, hardworking, spunky)... but he _wasn't_ easy.

But even with all that being said: 

The only thing that he regretted was not kissing Richie on the lips when he had the chance.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie: has Richie told you to your face that he likes me


	6. Remember the Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Maybe we should give them what we want."  
> "Don't you mean 'what they want'?"  
> "Oh, come on baby. You know we want it, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys what if there was an undertale + loser's club mashup. like???
> 
> hear me out. seven hearts

So apparently, Reddie wasn't the only thing that people were calling it. In fanfics, they were calling it Classy and Trashy.

Which made a lot of sense, honestly. Eddie was _obviously_ the classy one. He curled his hair up all nice and took care of his skin and nails and wore nice makeup and designer clothes. He was classy when he needed to be; firey when he wanted to be. But he could balance the two, those two different Eddies, so that they were the same one.

Richie? He was just trashy _all the time._

Well, they called him Double T for a reason.

After Eddie had cooled his jets about the whole shipping thing (and now, looking at it, Richie could see why he was so deliciously ticked off), he had asked Richie did he want to do a collab video sometime. Richie had grinned and said _But uploading sexual content is against YouTube's guidelines, you know that,_ and Eddie had rolled his eyes. But kidding aside, wouldn't that just make the shipping worse? If Eddie was concerned about it. He guessed that he did care at first... but now to Richie, it seemed like now, he _also_ didn't give a damn.

Even if Eddie had looked him dead in his face and said: _I hate you; you're the most annoying person I've ever met,_ people would still find some wacky ass loophole to be able to ship them. So why sweat it?

There was a thought that Richie was thinking about for the past few days. A thought that was so conjured up from his fantasies and wet dreams that he even didn't think it would actually work. But it was worth a shot. He'd rather try it and Eddie slap him in the back of the head than to _not_ try it and for him to have to watch another one of Eddie's Boyfriend Tags--with a new guy.

The very thought of that burned him up inside.

So, after the collab, he was going to ask Eddie on a date.

But wait. Was that a good idea? He didn't have the best track record for saying the right things. What if he said something stupid as hell and fucked it up? He knew exactly who to go to for a general script on what to say: he would go to Stan. Stan would know what to do. He would give him a logical, level-headed, organized dialogue.

So he knocked on Stan's door, heard whispering on the other side... and a few seconds later, saw Stan's curly top peer through the crack of his door.

Stan regarded him with cool, level eyes. "Sup, Rich."

"Hey, Stana Banana! What ya doing? Can I come in and ask you a question?"

Stan blushed and darted his eyes. "Uh. Can it wait? I'm kinda busy."

" _Nooooo!_ I have to do it now!" he whined. "Why are you being so secretive? Are you in there cooking up crack or something?"

"No, I just--" Stan sighed. He opened the door more, and Richie saw someone sitting up in Stan's bed. "Fine. Come in. In since it can't wait."

It took a few seconds for Richie to process that it was Mike that was sitting on Stan's bed. He had a book in his lap, along with what looked like to be a few Polaroid photographs. He smiled, gave him a two-finger salute, and the same greeting that Stan had given him, just a little cheerier: "Sup, Rich!"

Richie smirked and gave him the salute back. "Sup, Lebron."

"Stop calling him Lebron," Stan said, and started to rub his temples. "That's not his name and that's racist and what if he doesn't even like basketball? Not all black dudes like basketball." He was talking quickly, like he did when he was flustered or embarrassed and tried to explain it away with logic and reason. A grin spread more on Richie's face, and when he looked at Stan, the latter looked away.

"I know _that!_ Sorry. I didn't mean to talk shit about your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend," Stan said quickly. "We're _just_ friends. He's just showing me some pictures he took, I invited him over because I wanted to see them, he took some pictures of some birds for me." He held up a picture of some bird on a branch that he placed between his index and middle finger. "See?"

"Yeah, Banana. I see. Are you sure that's all you guys were... _doing?_ "

Stan was blushing, but his mouth was a fine, hard line. "Yes."

Richie turned his attentions over to Stan's _"just friend"_ sitting on the bed. "But _you_ wanna be doing something else. Now, am I wrong?"

"I'm not a part of this," Mike laughed, and he threw his hands up in defense. He received a Stanley Uris Death Glare™ and squinted eyes that sent the message of _Shut the_ fuck _up, Richie!_ without Stan even having to open his mouth.

"We're not like you and Eddie where you say that you're just friends when you really wanna fuck," Stan said... but Richie grinned because he _knew_ that was a bold-faced lie. Curse these lovebirds (pun _definitely_ intended) for diverging him away from the task at hand. All Stan had to do was say that magic name, and Richie remembered exactly what he wanted to ask.

" _Speaking_ of Eddie, that's what my question was about," Richie said smoothly. "I wanna know what's the best way to ask him out on a date?"

"Just do like you always do," Stan said, like it was common sense. "Just slip it into conversation. Be nonchalant about it. Act like it's no big deal. And I'm sure he'll say yes."

"Music always helps," Mike said. "Serenade him. That's what I did to Stan." And he grinned--Richie suspected that he was half-joking.

Richie snickered. "You know what? You both right. I'm gonna sing my heart out. And you _know_ I'm smooth with it."

He pulled Stan into a hug, then walked over to the bed and gave Mike a fist bump. He finally apologized for interrupting their date ("it's _not_ a fucking date," Stan said), went to his own room, and got dressed so he could head over to Bill and Eddie's. He hoped that little Spaghetti liked Michael Jackson.

* * *

They decided to do a Who's More Likely To video, after debating whether to do that or a Would You Rather. It was fun, and Eddie had figured that filming the video was a good way to get to know each other better. (Who's more likely to curse out the President for $100,000? _Obviously_ Richie. _Shit, I'd cuss him out for a McDouble and a medium fry,_ Richie said.) Like him and Stan the other day, they got half-way through their editing when Richie suddenly stood up from Eddie's bed.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asked him, squinting his eyes and furrowing his eyebrows. "We're almost done."

Richie smiled. "I know! That's why it won't kill you if we stop to have a little fun."

He bent over, the vertebrae of his spine lightly poking up underneath his shirt, turned his laptop around, and typed something into his search engine. Eddie's eyes were glued on him, trained on him, as if Richie was taking a test and Eddie was the proctor. Richie hummed absentmindedly as he pulled up a video, the video buffered, there was an ad, and finally, it started to play. 

He turned up the volume and waggled his eyebrows at Eddie. The latter, who was still sitting on his bed, who looked heavenly and beautiful and like the prettiest rose in a red sweater, scrunched up his face in confusion even more. But then, he recognized the song... and he started to laugh.

"Michael Jackson? Why are the hell you playing Michael Jackson? What is this?"

But then Richie was already singing, actually not bullshitting, folks--trying to keep his voice clean and even to hopefully, _maybe,_ impress him.

_Do you remember_

_When we fell in love_

_We were so young and innocent then_

And Eddie was slightly confused--why did he pick _this_ song, out of the millions of love songs that Michael Jackson had made? This one wasn't happy. It's a song about a breakup, right? But that didn't matter, did it? Because he was blushing like some damn idiot and the fact that Richie was even serenading him in the first place was enough for him. He put his hands on his chest thinking that if he did _that,_ then maybe the fluttering would go away.

Richie actually sang really well, and when he finally looked up, he caught that devilish glint in Richie's eyes, and his legs felt numb, so he couldn't fight Richie when he pulled him off the bed. He supported him up, still singing, by planting both of his hands on either side of Eddie's waist. Eddie couldn't deny him now, he didn't want to deny him now; he wrapped both of his arms around Richie's neck. When he stood on his tiptoes, he was close enough for Richie to feel his breath tickling his mustache and his nose.

_Do you remember the time_

_When we fell in love_

_Do you remember the time_

_When we first met, boy_

And Richie flicked him on the nose on the last line, and all that fire that he tried give Richie just turned into steam, and he smiled, and laughed, and buried his head into Richie's chest. He heard Richie's heartbeat in his ears like he had put his ear up to a seashell, listening to the ocean, and Richie's steady _swish swish swish_ kind of sounded like water. But that wasn't quite right, was it, and he knew it. He swore he was listening to the entire world.

"Hey, Eds," Richie said suddenly.

Eddie sighed. "You ruined it."

But he knew that wasn't true, either. Even though Richie had called him that stupid ass nickname... all of the teasing inflections in his voice were gone. He sounded a touch nervous. Eddie guessed he was, being next to his heartbeat and all--the swishing grew louder, faster; the ocean getting stirred around by tumultuous winds.

And his theory must've been correct, that Richie was nervous, because he didn't make some joke or crack a grin. He just said: "Aw, I'm sorry."

 _Aw no Richie, don't apologize, I was just kidding,_ the ocean in own his chest screamed at him, his own storm brewing there... but his pride wouldn't allow him to say that. "You're fine. What, though?"

"You know why I made us dance like jackasses in your room for, right?"

"No, I actually don't. Why?"

"B-Be..." Richie started, and Eddie could almost see the sentence ghosting on his lips that he _wanted_ to say: _Because I really like you._ But instead, he said: "Because you're a little frumpy and you don't seem like the type of person to have a lotta fun. And I _gotta_ change that."

He huffed. " _What?_ I'm not frumpy. And I have _plenty_ of fun, thank you very fucking much."

Richie grinned and showed off those jagged teeth, teeth that Eddie secretly thought were cute and endearing, their owner brave to not put braces over. "Well! Let's have a little _more_ fun. Together. Let's go on a date."

Eddie blinked, and he could tell he was blushing. Hard. "A _date?_ We can't do that."

Richie shrugged. "Who says?"

Eddie looked to the side, actually trying to think of any reason on why he couldn't go on a date with this man. _Any_ reason at all. And who wrote the rule-book that said that they couldn't. He was drawing up blanks.

"I dunno," he said finally. "The fans, they..."

"Want us to do that," Richie pointed out, the grin on his face becoming more and more teasing. "Maybe we should give them what we want."

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows for what seemed like the millionth time today. "Don't you mean, 'what _they_ want'?" At this, Richie gave a fake scoff and waved his hand dismissively, maybe as if he were shooing off a fly.

"Oh come on, baby. You know _we_ want it, too."

And Eddie couldn't lie to him on that.

He felt like that storm, that storm rustling his ocean in his chest, had finally come, and it was pouring down rain. He felt exposed and wet and cold--he wasn't a big fan of rain. He was scared of rain. Rain could make you sick, Ma always said. Rain could _hurt_ you. Juanito was rain. Richie was rain. But that wasn't entirely true--because Richie didn't seem like he felt too hot about rain, either. He saw Richie, sitting on his shoreline, with an umbrella and a jacket, handing it out to him with one of those crooked smiles... because Richie had got rained out, too. By the storm that was his own heart.

No. Richie wasn't rain. He was the ocean.

So he grabbed Richie's hands, let them envelop his own. If Richie was willing to share his umbrella with him, then that was enough to lower his walls and to fully let him in. He stood back on his tiptoes and closed his eyes again. He gave him another kiss on the cheek. On the lunch date, he had given Richie a kiss on the left side of his face--he didn't want the right side to get jealous. So he kissed him on the right side of his face.

"Fine. You're right. Damn you."

Richie's grin softened up into a smile. His eyes crinkled on the sides.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie: you should ask Stan out on a date Lebron ;-)  
> Mike: WAIT WHAT?? I CAN'T DO T H A T


	7. 2:42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie is a tough cookie; he can bounce right back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i typed all of this with my swollen ass hands and archive didn’t even allow me to upload it. sad!

Richie had only put his feet up on the coffee table as a social experiment: to see how long he could keep them up there before Stan swatted them off. Which was exactly 2 minutes and 42 seconds (this he was sure. He set a timer and everything).

"Get your feet off my coffee table," Stan said, using his own foot to knock Richie's off the table. If he used his hands to brush them off, then Richie would've not expected to see Stan for the rest of the day--he would've locked himself in the bathroom to shower and wash his hands. And if he had any plans to go anywhere today, it would've made him late, which would've made him anxious, which would've looped the cycle...

"Wait a minute. _Your_ coffee table?" Richie asked in mock defense. "We have joint custody, Stanley Tozier. You know that."

"Wrong," Stan answered flatly. "Last name's not Tozier anymore. We got divorced. Remember?"

And that just let out a few too many chucks for poor Rich to be able to continue. If he could count on one thing, he could count on Stan and his dry ass humor, always being able to counter him, never missing a beat. Some people would get exasperated at Richie's constant jokes and antics... but like everything about him, it seemed like, Stan was able to work through his shit and keep it together. And Richie loved him for that.

"How could I _forget_ ," Richie said in between giggles. "You took my kids away from me!"

Stan blinked. "Don't be so dramatic. You're acting like you never get to see Jenny and Andy. You have them on the weekends."

"But only the weekends, though. I wanna see them all the time, Stan. Don't do this to me!"

"Don't start this--"

"A coffee table means nothing to me! _Let me see my kids!_ "

The corners of Stan's mouth twitched up into a smile. "You're ignorant. Don't you have a date to get ready for?"

Richie snorted one last time for good measure (maybe just to make sure all of the giggles were really out). "Yes, Little Birdie--as a matter of fact, I do. Are you sure you're gonna be okay here all by yourself?"

"No. I need adult supervision. 'Cause _clearly_ , I'm not one."

Richie smirked. "Hm. Then you should call up your _baby-love_ up and see if he'll keep you company."

Stan's cheeks and the bridge of his nose burned something fierce, his mouth a fine line, but he didn't back down. "Good idea."

Richie snickered as he sashayed into his room to rummage through piles of clothes on his bed and floor for something to wear. If it smelled clean, he'd wear it; that was the go-to (even though Stan _hated_ it). He had heard those low giggles the other day (right before he had knocked on Stan's door), and Stan say something along the lines of: _You’re so cute, baby-love._ He thought he was going to be victorious, have the last laugh, out-wit Mr. Witty today... until Mr. Witty stood right in the frame of his door.

"You know, that's not the _only_ thing I call him," Stan egged on, and even without whipping his head around to look at him, Richie could see the smirk on his face. "Ya wanna know what else?"

Now _this?_ This was one of the only things that could instantly put a blush on Richie's face in _embarrassment_ : hearing about his best friend's sex life. Well, he had a "best friend" before he met Stan, back in California, and they talked about stuff like this, no biggie, no sweat... but that was because Richie didn't really think they were best friends. There's just two completely different levels of closeness that Richie felt in the two friendships. This was _Stan_.

"Aw, Stan, gross, I'd _really_ rather fucking not," he said quickly, and grimaced, and he already felt his face growing hot.

"You said you _do?_ Great. Well, cliche, but my two favorites are Da--"

Finally, Richie whipped his head around, his arms buried to the elbow in clothes. And when he did turn around, like he said, Stan had that stupid rare smirk on his face.

 _"Get the hell outta_ _my room, man!"_ He yelled, his face now as bright as the sauce of the nickname that he gave to his Eddie. Stan left, his deep chuckle rumbling in his chest. Richie slouched his shoulders.

He got out-snarked.

 _Shit_.

* * *

“I legit thought you weren't going to show up," Eddie said at the door. He was wearing a baby pink sweater, which he remembered that Bill said was one of his favorite colors. Eddie wore pink and yellow a lot--Richie saw it in everything now.

"It's called being fashionably late, Eds. If Stan and I didn't ride together--"

"--Don't call me Eds--"

"--Then I would've been late to the seven-way date. Damn, I can rhyme every time!"

Eddie chuckled and rolled his eyes. " _Okay_ , Tozier. Let's just go?"

And then did something that Richie hadn't anticipate he'd do: he reached out and held his hand. Richie tried his hardest not to blush like a jackass (even though he noticed that Eddie was blushing like a cute one). But then again, they were going on a date... and this is what normal people did on dates, right? Held hands and Eskimo kissed and all that shit? Whenever he and Sandra had went on dates, it was either her rambling about herself or looking at her phone.

And she wasn't "traditional", either: she didn't hold his hand or kiss him in public or let him hold doors open for her or cover the bill. And he gets it; not everybody likes stuff like that... but it would've been nice to compromise, you know? Already, it seemed like Eddie didn't play that type of game. Looking down at their interlocked hands told him that well enough.

"Okay," he said.

 

Instead of the date going a disaster (because Richie thought that he was a disaster person), it actually went _really_ fucking well. Eddie blushed and smiled at him and let hold his hands from across the table. He even laughed at his jokes and let him call him 'Eds', with no fuss. _Twice_. That is what you call _progress_ , people. And when the waiter came and asked them was it their date night (and Eddie said _yeah, something like that_ ), he joked and said, "you guys have fun later," and Eddie smirked and gave Richie a wink. To which Richie's entire body from his bellybutton down felt really numb and tingly for almost the rest of the date.

Then they headed off to the park. And at this specific park, if you walk a little further, there's a park-owned lake a ways down the path. They sat on the dock attached to this lake, in silence for a little while.

Then, Eddie did something _else_ that Richie hadn't anticipated: he admitted it first. He said, "You know... I'm not used to guys like you. Who are just like, so carefree and positive and do nice things for me. Like, we met and I was super nice, then I had to toughen up a bit--I didn't want you to get the wrong impression of me--and then... I dunno. You still stuck around. You still tease me and let me hold your hand and you covered the fucking bill. I guess the reason why I'm kind of hard on you, and why I'm even saying all of this is... just, I _really_ like you."

The first thought that Richie thought was: _Holy shit, you_ do? _Why?_

But then (in since he has never taken a single thing in his life seriously), he said: "Aww, Eds. I'm really moved by your declaration of undying love for me." Which then, Eddie gave him a look (it looked more hurt than angry), he finally got his shit together.

"No, seriously, though. I, uh, I'm sorry if you wanted me to tell you first. I'm just really awkward, and I'm not good at the whole relationship thing. I didn't wanna say the wrong thing and fuck it up. Just know: I really like you back. Like, I really really really really _reallllllly_ like you back. _Reallllll_ \--"

Eddie broke into a laugh, and now when he looked at Richie, he looked very young and happy and relieved. And _beautiful_. "Okay, okay. I get it. What are you going to do about it now that's in the air, huh?"

Richie smirked. He loved challenges. "Well... if you don't mind, Fair Sire, I would like a token of affection from the buds of your lips."

In the sharp brightness of the cloudy afternoon, Richie could see everything so clearly: the butterfly blush on Eddie's face, his millions of freckles, the light biting of his lower lip, the little bit of brunet fringe that tried to eclipse his bright, moon eyes.

"Okay, that's fair. And you can even get it on the lips this time."

Richie never felt so better.

 

But something told him that he should've turned his notifications off. He had come back to his and Stan's apartment, filled to the brim with Eddie's smile and his laugh and his quips and the warmth of his hands and just _Eddie_ , filmed a video, edited it, uploaded it, and tried to go to sleep. (Well, that's not entirely true, is it? Him and Stan had ate a whole bag of Doritos together after he uploaded the video, but no bother.) But then his damn phone kept on going off: _ping ping ping_. He kind of didn't even want to check his phone, because that felt like too much work and too many steps. But he needed that damn pinging to stop.

So he picked it up, still plugged up and charging, and went in to stop that cursed sound. But before he _could_ turn it off, he saw what was causing the culprit of the noise in the first place: comments on his latest video. They didn't look like his fanbase either, at least a lot of them didn't. They were all people with perfect makeup and sharp eyeliner and pretty Snapchat filters in their profile pics.

And most of them were fucking _mean_.

**god. you're a fucking moron. i don't see what eddie sees in you**

**You don't deserve Eddie!!! He's too good for you imo**

**I don't see how they're compatible????? Eddie is so sweet and this guy is just....... annoying????**

**better off just sticking w juanito tbh bc this was not a good trade off**

Okay, he could brush off most of that... but that last one in particular _really_ fucking hurt. So these people meant to tell him, to his face, that they would rather Eddie stay with an abusive guy over him because he was _annoying_? Was he _really_ that bad? Not that many things made him cry, but for some reason, he felt his eyes stinging and his vision get blurry and he was glad that he had already taken out his contacts. He felt it in his chest, like a physical pain. He didn't realize how much he compared himself to the guy until that moment.

And he guess he was losing.

But Eddie didn't think that. Did he? Did he? Did he? He said that he didn't, on the date, he said that he didn't...

He had half a mind to go and knock on Stan's door to see if he was still awake, but he didn't want to be a burden. That's what he fucking felt like right now: a big ass burden. He wanted to fucking talk to Stan so badly, he _needed_ to, he needed to talk to somebody and he would've preferred it would've been Bill or Stan... but he wouldn't allow himself to do that.

This was not what he anticipated. He knew that some people weren't going to like him, but goddamn. And it got even worse: his own fans were trying to defend him. It was turning into a war.

**stfu u don't even know richie he's a good guy and honestly eddie's not all that tbh so u back off him. don't like don't watch. it's that simple**

**Leave Richie alone. He didn't do anything wrong. Stay out of their relationship jfc**

**are you guys just mad that richie does a lot more than eddie does?? okay then**

**Yeah...... I don't see how their compatible either. Because Richie is an awesome you tuber and Eddie is just another basic ass MUA so you can all kiss my ass**

**lmao who doesn't deserve WHO???????**

He couldn't let Eddie see these comments. He didn't _ever_ want his daffodil to feel the shitty way that he was feeling now. Again, he had half a mind to disable comments in general... but then all of these no-lives would run back over to Eddie's channel and say that "his boyfriend's a coward". And he wasn't going to do that, _oh no,_ friends and neighbors, _oh no_ , ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. He had been on YouTube for seven years; this was nothing new.

And, when he thought about it, this wasn't even the worst thing that somebody had said about him.

But what he didn't want is for his fans to march over to Eddie's channel and to give him unnecessary hate. He would make a video about it in the morning. He couldn't control Eddie's fanbase, but the least that he could do was to tell his fans to leave Eddie alone. He owed him that, because he really liked him--really, he did. He wasn't kidding. He was actually gaga for this kid. So it would burn him up if his fans continued to act this way.

But you know what? At the end of the day, he still thought that all of this was worth it. These shitty comments by these random people, probably hundreds to thousands of miles away from him, didn't matter when he was with Eddie, around him, soaking up his sunny vibes and being able to hold his hand and kiss his cheeks. They didn't matter when they texted in their private Discord chat, or talked on the phone. They didn't matter this afternoon. They didn't matter when Eddie finally kissed him on the lips, their first real kiss.

They didn't matter.

So he wiped his eyes, had a good laugh at himself for even _thinking_ about crying over some wack-ass comments, and daydreamed. He daydreamed about the next time he would be able to see that cute little face, those pretty brown eyes, hold those tiny little hands. Next time he saw Eddie, he would pull him back into his lap, and smell his rosewater hibiscus shampoo, and kiss all over his neck, and tell him that he was the prettiest boy in the world. Because he was. Next time. Maybe tomorrow, but it felt like forever.

He thought about all of those things, all of those particularly Eddie things, until he finally fell asleep. He got so distracted that he actually forgot to do what he intended to do in the first place: turn off those notifications. But it didn't even matter, they didn't matter; he still slept like a goddamn baby.

He didn't even hear them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie: pfft *Stan voice* he’s not my boyfriend


	8. Makeup Your Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Wait, so you're not upset by it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey my name is toby and i have a rheumatologist appointment tomorrow ((next week))
> 
> also thank u for the lovely chapter prompt!! my heart is,,,,,, all the way through the roof.......

"Name one tattoo that you guys would _really_ want," Bev said. She lit up her cigarette, and now three heads chased the flame instead of one.

Her, Richie, and Mike were sitting on the carpeting floor of Bev's apartment. Cute Polaroid pictures were strung up by clothespins and hung from their yellow walls. It was pictures from the seven-way-date: her and Eddie, Ben picking her up bridal style (and her looking mighty triumphant), her and Eddie, her hugging Bill. And, a picture of either one of her arms slung around Richie and Mike's shoulders--because they were "my boys" (a direct quote from hers' truly).

"I'm running outta skin to get any more," Richie said, looking at his inked arms. "But if I _wasn't,_ I would want a motherfucking kraken. They're badass."

"Feel you on that," Bev said, leaning against the wall. "But I would want, like, a bunch of ladybugs going up my side."

Richie snorted. _"Ladybugs? Why?"_

"'Cause they're _good luck,_ you bozo." She smirked, and then turned her grinning attention towards Mike. "What would you want, Mikey?"

Mike blushed and downcast his eyes. "Those bird wings on Stan's back. Does _that_ count?"

It was Bev's turn to snort, and--in perfect synchronization again--all three of them pulled out a second cigarette to continue the festivities. "I mean, yeah. I never said the answers couldn't be abstract. It doesn't have to be a tattoo that's on _your_ body. Shit, I didn't even know that Stan had tattoos."

Richie couldn't help but to snicker. He didn't know that things were going to take this turn in the conversation, but he was all for it. "Guy'll throw you for a loop like that. He's got wings, right on his shoulder-blades. Don't mean to brag, but they were actually my idea. We wanted matching tattoos, but not like, _too_ matching, nah-I'm-saying? So that's the orgin of the legendary wings. And I got bat wings!"

"Dude, that's rad," Bev exclaimed. "Lemme see!"

So Richie leaned off the wall for just a second and raised his shirt up to his chin in order to show the sick bat wings on his shoulder-blades. Bev and Shan's dog sniffed at Richie's back and wagged her tail, also taking interest in the wings. Shan walked into the living room where the three sat (well, four, if you included Pudding) while Richie's shirt was still raised and Bev and Mike were appreciating the body art.

"What's goin' on in here?" She smirked, then waved her hands dismissively. "It's cool! I don't wanna know. You dudes stayin' for lunch?"

It was then that Richie stood up from the carpet and cracked his knuckles. "Very nice of you to offer, Fair Lady, but I got a video date with my boo thang today. And Lebron James has to come with me."

"Huh? Why do _I_ have to go?" Mike asked, sounding dismayed at the idea of having to be in the same vicinity as Richie and Eddie together (because he didn't watch porn). But only slightly dismayed, because he still put on a smile.

"Because Eddie and Bill are coming to our apartment." Richie smirked. "And you don't want _Bill_ to be able to look at those bird wings, _do you?_ "

Mike stood up so quickly he almost bumped into the sharp corner of the wall (Bev winced at the possibility of this). "No. I sure don't."

"Richie, you're so ignorant, you know that Bill has a girlfriend, right?" Bev was _about_ to say, grinning. But Richie cut her off right before she said "girlfriend" with a _shhh_ and a smirk.

* * *

So while Bev was at home eating lunch with her lady friend, Richie decided that the best course of action was to get all the dudes together. It wouldn't be a party if all of them was there, except good ole Haystack. So Richie called him up.

" _Heeey,_ 'Stack! You busy?"

Ben laughed, but (Richie was just now noticing) it seemed shy and subdued. "Uh, nah. Why?"

"All of us are over here at mine and Stan's place. Well except Bev, because she'd rather hang out with her girlfriend that she loves dearly and her dog instead of us. _Lame._ You should come over!"

Finally, Ben's voice got cheery and bright (like how it did about halfway through the seven-way-date). " _Really?_ Yeah dude, sure!"

And so that was all settled, folks. All of the dudes were over Richie and Stan's apartment, just being "bros" and "hanging out". Stan was in Mike's lap, enjoying getting his hair played with, and Eddie did that cute thing again where he looked at Richie as a nonverbal way of asking to hold his hand. Bill, to be cheeky, sat in Ben's lap and wrapped his arms around his neck. He even kissed him on the cheek. ("Don't want us to feel left out, Benny," Bill teased, and Ben had actually blushed and told Bill to "get your dumb ass off me, Denbrough").

Eddie had gave Richie a peck on the lips (he _still_ wasn't used to that; he probably _never_ was going to get used to that), and started assembling his recording set-up. As he did so, the other guys (mainly Bill, Ben, and Richie), were chatting amongst themselves.

"Gotta get you a girlfriend," Richie said with a smirk.

" _Gotta_ get you a girlfriend," Bill agreed.

"Hey, now! I swing both ways," Ben said--and damn! Richie was wondering how did he get so lucky? He literally had an entire friend group of people in the LGBT+ community! Nothing wrong with his straight friends at all. He just thought it was ironic (and chucka... no) that things turned out this way.

"Oh," Bill said in surprise. "You do?" Then, he smiled. "I do, too!"

"I figured _that,_ " Ben said, a smirk erupting on his face. "I mean, after you were in my lap and all. I kinda liked it. If you didn't have a girlfriend, I think I'd be all over you, Bill. Don't get me wrong."

"You--huh?" Bill asked, his voice shooting up several octaves, his face as red as his hair. "You serious?"

"I'm serious."

"So who's taking whose last name, huh?" Richie interjected, and he figured that he was about to get smacked in the face, but Ben started to laugh. That's when Bill started to laugh, too, and his eyes crinkled up at the sides, and him and Richie both looked at each other and non-verbally debated if Ben was really serious. Richie was about to add another insightful opinion, when he felt something warm touch his hand.

"I'm done setting up the cam," Eddie said, and he grinned. "What are you guys talking about?"

"About how much Ben wants to bone your best friend," Richie blurted out, and Ben and Bill both collectedly donned a rosy shade.

Eddie shook his head. "No, Ben. Don't do that. You'd get a bad deal."

There were three different reactions from the three different amigos: Bill's mouth was agape, Ben laughed, and Richie _cackled._ Bill put his hands over his chest in mock offense.

"I thought you loved me, Bunny," Bill said.

Eddie snickered. "I do, Turtle. Now, do you guys wanna see the surprise that I have planned for Richie?"

"I do," Stan said from across the room, after about 46 years of silence. "I _can't_ fucking wait."

Everybody in the room laughed except for Richie and Stan, but the latter grinned and basked in Peer Approval™️. The _former_ learned that he didn't really feel too hot about surprises (that was something he actually learned from Stan). So he was not wanting to see the surprise at _all._

 

 _"Oooooh!"_ Stan exclaimed, an uncharacteristically large smile splitting his face. _"Make him pretty!"_

Richie squinted his eyes and sucked in breath as a symbol for "yikes". Stan's eyes were wide and child-like, and he had his hands on his lap and was leaning forward to see better, something he almost never did (he _hated_ slouching). Seeing him so happy and gussied up made Richie happy, goddammit, even though he felt stupid for it. He couldn't take that away from him.

"Eddie, I swear to God, don't put makeup on me," Richie said, very half-heartedly. But Bill, Mike, and Ben were chanting "make him pretty!" over and over again, Stan still had that stupid, giddy, euphoric look on his face... and Eddie gave him a teasing little smirk and a wink.

"Aw. Please? If you let me," he said as he leaned closer into Richie's ear, "maybe something _good_ will come out of it for you."

That was all that Richie needed to hear. "Okay! I'm game!"

So then Eddie was in his element--after he did his intro, Richie didn't understand a single thing that came out of the kid's mouth. He started talking about all of this makeup brands and techniques and powders and contouring and "baking" and all this other shit. But there was something about it that was so charming and cute. Eddie looked so concentrated, so focused, and he talked about all of this stuff as if he _made_ makeup.

Well, Jesus. He took it back. He wouldn't _ever_ be able to memorize all of this terminology and brushes and techniques and remember which makeup brands oxidized on your face (whatever the hell _that_ meant). Doing makeup actually seemed like a lot of work.

Well done, Camcorder Kings and Queens. Maybe you didn't deserve that title after all.

Well... at least not his Eddie. _He_ didn't.

But there was something else. Normally, Eddie was very mild-mannered and polite, but still had a twinge of his signature fire. (Just like Bill, now that he thought about it.) But now, in front of that camera, he was _all_ fire. He was confident and sure and did all of this makeup stuff with ease, like he knew it like the back of his manicured hands--which Richie was _sure_ he did. He was like a phoenix and he rose from glittery ashes. And Richie thought that was _hot._

No pun intended.

"I'm done!" he said, and told Richie to look into the camera so he could see how the makeup turned out. It was no exaggeration, folks. When they call these people makeup artists, they _mean_ it. It seemed like Eddie actually put _art_ on his fucking face. His cheekbones were high and glossy, his jawline so sharp it could cut paper (didn't Eddie say that he had _contoured_ there?) and his eyes were dark and purple and glittery. His lips were matte and black. (Oh, and don't forget the winged eyeliner.) Eddie was even able to make his nose smaller and straighter. Richie's nose was his biggest insecurity about his body, right underneath his... you guessed it! His teeth.

He looked like a vampire. _Bat wings._ Hell yeah.

"Yo Spaghetti, I look real good!" he exclaimed, and Eddie seemed to almost burst at the seams at this approval. "Real vampy. I'm gonna suck all on your neck."

"That's what I was going for," Eddie said, still beaming. "Also ignoring that last comment."

So then, the recording was done, Eddie was happy; he said he would edit it later, and that Richie could wash off the makeup if he wanted. But he wanted to keep it on for just a little while because he felt... how do the ladies say it? _Bad as fuck._ Stan must've thought so, too. Because he came up close to Richie's face, examining him closely and turning his head from side to side.

"You're beautiful," Stan muttered.

Richie batted his eyelashes over-dramatically. "Aw, _Stan._ Don't make me blush!"

"Can you make _me_ beautiful, too?" Stan asked, looking over to Eddie with his wide, hopeful eyes. And Eddie seemed to beam even more.

The rest of the meet-up consisted of Eddie doing Stan's makeup, putting reds and greens and browns on his face, showing him how long to set his makeup and how to get the perfect wing, the perfect places to highlight and contour in order to bring out his killer jawline. And Ben, Bill, Mike, and Richie all poking fun at each other, making lame and stupid and childish dirty jokes, and overall, just fooling around.

 

"I don't think I've ever been in your room before," Eddie said. Him and Richie were sitting on the latter's bed this time, and Richie wished he had half a mind to actually clean his room instead of taking all his clothes and pushing them all to one universal place.

"Me neither," Richie said. Then he gestured around to his room, with all his rock and rap posters and vinyl records littering the walls. "D'ya like it?"

"I like your decoration," Eddie said, pointing to one of the J Cole posters on the wall. "You need to do something with all of those clothes, though."

Richie snorted, and that snort turned into a snicker. That, from Tozerish, translated to: _Yeah, yeah, I know._ He leaned back on the bed, laying on his back, and after a few seconds, Eddie followed suit. They lay silent for a while, together, side-by-side, not really feeling like they needed to break the silence. And Eddie reaching for his hand and intertwining their fingers spoke volumes enough.

And he was the one to break the silence when it _was_ killed. "I saw all of that shit people were saying about us," he said, and Richie felt his heart do some weird shit. He didn't know what it was, but it didn't feel good.

"Awwww, boo. Sorry you had to see all that, baby doll."

Eddie chuckled. "Doesn't bother me any. Fuck all them, am I right?"

"Wait... so you're not upset by any of it?"

Eddie seemed to ponder this. "I mean, not _really._ There was a comment on there that called me basic or something. It pissed me off. But then the bitch who said it looked basic herself. So I don't really know what she wants me to do."

The two of them turned their heads to where they were facing each other. All it took was a few seconds of eye contact for them to both burst into fits of tiny giggles. Then turned into laughs. Then huge, loud guffaws that would probably annoy the shit out of Stan, laughs where Richie was practically screaming and Eddie was snorting. He thought that was adorable, that Eddie snorted when he laughed. They came back down, and Richie just noticed that their fingers were still intertwined together, loosely. Like a daisy chain.

"Seriously, though," Eddie said, and Richie's view of his profile when he looked up at the ceiling was just absolutely beautiful. "I really couldn't give a shit less what people say about you. You could do everything right, be the perfect guy, and people would still find a reason to call you out of your name. I shouldn't let that stop me from liking somebody. I want to make my fans happy, of course I do... but I wanna be happy, too."

"I want you to be happy too, Eddie," Richie said.

Eddie smirked. "What--in general, or with you?"

"Shit, preferably with _me!_ "

Richie let out a few more snickers, and Eddie's smirk softened into a smile. He turned his head back to the side so he could look at Richie's face. "Yeah... preferably with you."

Going back to that adorable idea? Richie thought it was adorable that fringe always got in Eddie's eyes. It was cute how his eyes looked too big for his face, but they still suited him, how his freckles seemed like stars in a galaxy on his face, even prettier than the galaxy that Eddie made on his earlier. It was cute that his glasses only made his eyes look bigger, and out of _all_ the frames he could've chose, he picked those brown rounded ones. (The same shade as Richie's nightstand drawer.) He was cute in his little bow tie and suspenders and his button down shirt. Shit. He was cute _just laying there._

He could go on and on about how cute this Kaspbrak kid was. But that would be redundant, now wouldn't it? Because he thought _everything_ about Eddie was cute.

He thought Eddie was perfect.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shan: wait did he call him Lebron James  
> Bev: yeah it's a Richie thing I wouldn't even look too into it


	9. Jinkies!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill is stuck in the middle of Richie and Eddie's shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for just dropping off the face of the earth i've been sick x.x 
> 
> but audra's in this chapter!!! i love her.........

After uploading his newest video (which was Subnautica--the full release finally came out and he and Bill were hella excited), Richie spent his time pacing the floor. It was something he did often, but infrequently enough that Stan finally snapped his head up in disdain.

 _"Why are you doing that?"_ he asked, and Richie stopped in his tracks immediately.

Richie blinked. "Doing what?"

" _That._ Pacing around. It's making me nervous. What, are _you_ nervous?"

"Well, kinda," Richie answered, sincerely enough, and he let out a chuckle. "Today, I'm finally asking Eds to be my boyfriend."

"Huh. You haven't done that already?"

Richie shook his head vigorously. He figured that Stan just assumed that him and Eddie were dating already (well, him and all the rest of their friends did)... but he didn't want to just assume himself. He wanted Eddie to tell him this to his face; that he actually _did_ want to hold his hand, kiss and hold him, and all that other shit, in the romantic sense. He also didn't want Eddie to think that this was just a little fun, a little experiment or fling that he wanted to have. Richie was, indubitably, The Real Deal.

But he figured it'd be hard to tell Eddie with all of the commotion going on at the moment. Everybody was getting their shit together for PAX that was steadily approaching. They all had to get tickets, ready their merch, film enough videos to hold them over in their absence (so their channels wouldn't be dead for an entire week)... and just make sure that they all stayed sane and in one piece. Factoring all of that in, maybe it was inconsiderate to emotion dump all over Eddie right now?

 _But hey, man,_ Richie told himself. _Like I said before: if you don't do it right now, some other dude will._

_So do it right now._

And do it right now... he would do.

He was pretty much done filming all of his videos for PAX (well, pretty much. And it was kind of a cop-out; they were all pretty much Subnautica...), so all he had left to do was get technical things like his ticket and all of his Double T merch. Which that, to him, was the easy part. Filming and editing was the hard part, just solely due to the fact that it took up so much time.

"Well, good luck with that," Stan said. "I just kinda assumed that you were dating already. But you know what they say about people who assume."

Richie smirked. "It makes an ass out of you, not me?"

"I'm ignoring you. But anyway, don't sweat it. I'm sure Eddie will say yes and accept your proposal and y'all can live happily ever after."

Goddamn it. Stan and Ben with their "y'all" nonsense. Well, Stan _did_ used to live in Georgia. And he couldn't remember which state Haystack said he was originally from, before he moved to Maine, but he knew that it was a southern one (because he had an accent). It was Alabama, or Louisiana, or somewhere. _But I digress._

"Aww, Stan. You weally think so? That Spaghetti will accept my wove?"

"Yes. I weally do think so."

"Well, I'll take your word for it, little birdie!" Richie beamed. "I'll _really_ take your word for it."

* * *

But he couldn't just go in bare! He was suddenly really nervous. He needed some guidance and some emotional support. And he couldn't ask Stan; he was caught up in basketball... Bev would know what to do, but she had her own lady. Would Haystack be able to help him? No, he wouldn't do that. He was still looking for somebody, and one thing that Richie _didn't_ like to be was inconsiderate. (He was annoying, yes, but never purposefully inconsiderate.) He just didn't want to bog Ben down with relationship stuff and make him really sad. Lebron was out of the question. He recently got a new hobby, and that was bird-watching.

So that left one person in their group, and he would know _exactly_ what to say and do. This guy was great at advice and origami--he was particularly good at making paper boats.

 

 _"Bill!"_ Eddie yelled, from across their apartment, and it had that certain shrieky, Kaspbrak quality that Bill knew that something was up. It made Audra laugh, but her face was still planted with her signature motherly concern.

Eddie came into the living room a few seconds later, looking absolutely like he wanted to pull all of his hair out. Bill regarded him with concern, yes, but mostly amusement. Because he was pretty sure that all of this was Tozier related.

"What's up, Bun Bun?"

He was right on the money. "Why the _fuck_ hasn't he asked me out yet? Does he not like me or something?"

"Hm? Do you really think that, though?" Bill asked, and he couldn't help but to let the corners of his mouth curl into a grin. Eddie was all that Richie talked about, so he really didn't think any of those silly notions that Eddie had were particularly true. Maybe Richie was just shy... well, okay. Bill smiled some more. Maybe that wasn't quite right, either.

"Yes! I really think that!" Eddie ran his hands through his hair and exhaled with a little puffing noise... then he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, god. What if I'm too mean for him? Or... oh, no. Or worse. What if all that hate is getting to him? And he doesn't wanna date me?"

Audra popped up from her seat next to Bill and instantly put a hand on Eddie's shoulder. "Aw, love. Don't look so down. Maybe there's a reason why he's holding back on you. There was to be. From what Billy tells me, and from the phone calls that him and Richie have back and forth, it--"

A phone rang, and all three of them jumped, then looked over at the coffee table to Bill's phone. It was lit up, buzzing, vibrating on the table, and the three of them stared at it in a dazed stupor.

Finally, Bill approached it, saw that it was the Devil (if you speak of him, he shall appear), and answered on about the third ring. "Hey, Rich!"

"Ah, Big Bill! Just the man I wanted to hear! Thanks for calling, man."

Bill laughed an easy, airy laugh, and Richie cursed him for being so seemingly perfect (really though, fuck that guy). "But _you_ called _me._ "

"Right, right! Well, it's for something really _really_ important. I'm doing a heist, and I need an accomplice of sorts. Ya got me?"

"Yeah sure, Richie! If that'll make you happy. What do I need to do?"

There were a few seconds of silence over the phone as Richie (Bill assumed) tried to think of some witty remark. " _Goddamn it_ , you nice bastard. No questions asked? You got me. Well anyway, I'm trying to ask your best friend out and I don't know how and I don't want him to freak out or anything thinking that I don't like him and I don't really know what to do because I'm not good at this type of shit and now I'm rambling like a jackass please don't put me on speaker phone."

Bill smirked. "Well, geez. I wish I would've thought of that. He's _already_ freaking out, by the way."

"Aww... zoinks, Scoob," Richie said as sadly as he could in his Shaggy voice.

Bill laughed again, and this time, it was completely devoid of its' sweetheart quality. Richie could practically hear the mischief coming out of that guy's mouth from the other line. "Well, come over!" Bill suggested. "Just come over, and we'll all figure it out."

"Well geez, Fred," Richie said. "You're the best, man." And he let out a little laugh himself.

 

He didn't know why he felt like he needed to put on some snazzy clothes (not snazzy like "dressy"; snazzy like he was going out), but he did anyway, and headed over to Bill and Eddie's. When he got there, there was an auburn-haired lady that Richie had never seen before, and he assumed that she was Bill's lady. He had never met her before, but she was the one who answered the door, and she was really nice.

"Hi, I'm Audra!" she said as soon as she closed the door, and she shook Richie's hand. Richie gave her an air kiss on the top of it, and he found out that she laughed like Bill: light and airy. At least she already was partial to his antics. That was a good sign.

"Nice to meet ya, doll," Richie said.

"It's nice to meet you, too. I've heard so much about you!"

"Good things, I hope and pray." He couldn't help to grin.

Audra was a fun gal. She grinned back. "Oh, no. They're all so awful and terrible that I'm wondering how you're roaming the streets. No... they're good things! Eddie's really into you, which--good on you! Because that's hard to do." She hit Richie lightly in the shoulder. "I like you better than Juanito already."

Richie wanted to pry a little more into what Mrs. Denbrough said about Eddie being _really_ into him. But the topic of the conversation walked in right after, along with Audra's ~~husband~~ boyfriend, so it would have to wait. Eddie looked so cute; Richie didn't think he could look any cuter, and he looked insanely nervous. That made Richie feel a hell of a lot better. At least he wasn't the _only_ one.

Bill smirked and pushed them a little closer together. "Go ahead," he said. "Tell each other what you told me."

Eddie closed his eyes and let out an even sigh. "Okay. I'll go first. Well. Here it is. Richie... I'm just kinda wondering why you haven't asked me out yet like do you not like me or something am I too mean did I do something wrong it makes me really anxious and have to take my inhaler but I don't wanna think about it too hard because I'm _pretty sure_ I'm overreacting but I just really thought we get along really nicely and it'd be super cute to have a boyfriend in time for PAX. So."

Richie frowned. "Aw, Spaghetti... I never wanted to make you feel that way, though! I really like you and I have a good ass time with you and you're sweet and sassy and cute as hell and I'm sure we can work through all that hate I know we can I just didn't know how to ask you out because as you know I love to run my big fucking mouth and I didn't want to say something stupid and ruin it all I want you to _never_ have to go through another Juanito again I just want you to be happy and I would be _pretty_ lit if you were happy with me."

Bill and Audra both blinked. There was a few seconds of silence from the four of them.

"Also, are you asking me out?"

Eddie's eyes had been big and scared and filled with unbridled emotion, but now the corners of them crinkled as he finally broke out into a laugh. "No, _dumbass._ I was kinda hoping that it'd be the other way around. But in since _you_ keep on fucking stalling... Richie, do you wanna be my boyfriend?"

Richie had been grinning from ear to ear when he had done his cheeky "are you asking me out" gig, but now he smirked ever-so wider. He put his hands up to his chest and furrowed his eyebrows. "Oh, Eddie. Really? What a surprise! I would have never seen this coming; honestly, I didn't even know you liked me! I would _love_ to be your boyfriend, dear."

"Oh, yay," Eddie said, and grinned, his eyes now turning into two little half-moons and his fieriness momentarily at bay. He wrapped his arms around Richie's waist and put his head on his chest. And when Richie said this, folks, he meant it... he practically melted. He was surprised that Eddie didn't slip and fall flat on his ass onto the floor.

Richie took the opportunity to grab Eddie by his waist and lift him off the ground. He could do this now. Right? They were finally, officially An Item™, so he didn't think that Eddie would really mind. And he didn't seem to mind. Because he wrapped his arms around Richie's neck and replaced the empty space around Richie's waist with his legs.

"Yeah! See? Look at that!" Bill exclaimed, and ruffled both of their hair (he bent down a little to ruffle Eddie's... but Bill and Richie looked each other in the eye, pretty much, so he just gave Richie a regular ole' ruffle all the same.) All four of them--the guys, and Audra--all shared a little laugh.

"I'm glad that one of us finally gave in," Richie muttered into his neck. Then, he laughed. "And I'm so fucking glad that it was you."

"Shut the hell up," Eddie muttered back, but his shoulders shook a little because he was still laughing.

 

"Look, Rich. I'm glad that it went so well; I really am," Stan was saying. But then he chuckled. "But, _please._ Have _mercy_ on me."

"There's no mercy here, baby. We're not playing Undertale in this bitch!"

Ever since Richie had gotten back to his and Stan's humble abode, his mouth had been running about the outcome of his plan. In fact, Stan had looked on Richie's arm or his neck for some sort of off button to try to shut him up. (Although they had been friends for so long, Stan already knew that such a pleasure didn't exist.) Richie wasn't intentionally trying to talk his poor friend's ear off... but he just couldn't help himself.

"Please, Richie. I'm begging," Stan said, but his voice was still completely deadpanned. "I'm a good person. I love birds, I donate to charity, I go to synagogue every week, I get lit on Rosh Hashanah, I laugh at your jokes. I _really_ don't think I deserve this."

"Oh, you're acting like it's some type of _punishment_ or something," Richie grinned. "Like you couldn't care less about a single word that's coming out of my mouth. Which I know that can't _possibly_ be true!"

Stan cut his eyes to the side. "Well..." and he laughed whenever Richie finally flipped him off (and added: "Oh fuck you, Uris. Fuck _you_ ").

"No but seriously, man," Richie said, and he didn't even stop himself from gushing this time. "He's so cute. And perfect. Like, damn. I wish you could've seen his face whenever I said all that stuff to him. Like, he looked really surprised--he really didn't think that I didn't like him, right? Of _course_ I fucking do. I'm just surprised he likes me back, and even wants to fucking date me." He leaned back a little after propping a pillow up behind him for his bad back. "I should really put a ring on him soon."

Stan's eyes widened a bit in amusement. "Okay, Michael. Don't get too excited now."

"Oh, but I'm only kidding! You _know_ that, Stan." He smirked. "Only question is whether Lebron was kidding around or not."

Stan chuckled and waved his hand (even though, even from where he was sitting, Richie could see Stan's face burning). "Nah, he was. But I know with the both of you, there's always some truth hidden in your little jokes. But it's cool. You're both just passionate like that. Don't change it. It's nice that way."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stan: finally, after NINE chapters. Maybe he'll stfu about it now


	10. Boyfriend Tag (The Reprise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, now at least Richie doesn't have to worry about seeing a video up with some other guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this is technically the end i guess// but i'm doing a bonus chapter in the morning, so i'm a liar??
> 
> edit: i’m just going to keep this story at 10 chapters? so this is the end and i’m an even bigger liar// love you guys!!

Unfortunately, Richie still hadn't shut up in the morning... and now, Stan was _really_ wishing that he had an off-button.

At least he was trying to be considerate as they were getting ready for PAX. It was in a few days, sure, and all of the friends had decided that they were going to stay in the same hotel. So Richie rambled here, edited videos there, packed a little here _and_ there. He had talked to the others--Ben and Mike were done with their video cache (with editing and everything, so they were all set), Bev still had a bit of editing to do, and Bill was pretty much done with everything. Eddie, he was told, only had one more video to do, and he had quite a bit of an idea on what he wanted that video to be.

"Just come over to our place!" Eddie had said, and Richie smiled at how warm and pleasant he sounded. "It's kind of a surprise. But I'm sure you can guess where I'm going with this. I dunno. Just come over. Dress decent."

So Richie had done as he was told, like a good boy--he hadn't questioned much; he had gotten dressed (and decent, at that), said his goodbyes to Stan, and drove the few minutes over to Bill and Eddie's. Whatever this video was, Eddie _sure as hell_ was excited for it.

"So what is it, Spaghetti-O's?" Richie asked as soon as Eddie opened the door. The latter made him bend down just a bit so he could ruffle his hair. He had this little smile playing on his face; he was still being very vague and secretive about this little video, even as he led Richie into his room, where he already had set up his recording specs.

"You'll see," was as close as an answer that Eddie had given him. _Tales of the Crypt._

They both sat down on the bed, and before they did, Eddie had turned on the camera and made sure that it was recording. He grabbed Richie's hand, intertwined their fingers in each other, gave Richie his sweet little smile. Shit, Richie didn't care if he was making an ad to sell his organs on the Deep Web... Eddie could do whatever he wanted as long as he was holding his hand.

"It's a Boyfriend Tag," he whispered, and even gave a small laugh. Wait, hold the motherfucking phone. _For real?_ Like, Eddie actually wanted to _do_ one of those with him? Even though he used to think they were stupid, he was honored, flattered really. It was cute, it was personal, it required a level of tenderness and trust, it was endearing. Eddie did his usual intro, Richie gave a little bit of his Signature TrashmouthTozier Flair, and they both peered into the screen of Eddie's iPhone to see the questions for the tag. As much as he didn't want to admit it at first... he was having fun.

This was fun. Eddie was fun.

He was sure that the whole world could be fun when they were together.

* * *

"Well obviously, I _have_ to watch it," Stan was telling him when he got back to their apartment, and Richie actually blushed.

He agreed to do the video, yeah, for his little plate of Spaghetti... but he didn't know if he had wanted any of his friends to watch it. It was embarrassing! He was trying to be on his best behavior (he had failed), but he was being all cute and mushy and soft and touching all over Eddie's arms and face. He was sure that Stan would roast him to the _grave_ if he saw him acting like that.

"Noooo!" He whined. "You can't! It's just the rules. They say, if you watch your best friend's Boyfriend or Girlfriend Tag, you'll be single for _five years._ "

"Bill's already watched it. And neither one of us are single. Gimme the phone."

" _Noooo!_ Look it up on yours'!"

"You're being a baby," Stan said... but he went on YouTube and clicked on Eddie's channel through his own phone, anyway. "Look, how about this? We can watch it together. Just so you know I'm not roasting you behind your back or anything." 

Damn. It was like Stan had read his mind. Now he felt like (okay, he hadn't said this in a while--he was good to say it, right?) a jackass because Stan could read his emotions like he was open book. Which he didn't think he was, godammit. But apparently he was. Stan could read him from cover to cover. And he had motherfucking bookmarks and dog-eared pages.

"Fine, fine, fine!" Richie said, but he spiked his voice up a few octaves for emphasis. Then, he smirked with amusement. "Wait, you would roast me behind my back?"

"In a heartbeat, love," Stan said, and pushed play on the video. Richie snickered, even despite feeling his cheeks and neck and entire face flush with embarrassment.

 _"Hi, lovely boys, girls, people, and everybody in between!"_ Eddie exclaimed, and smiled and waved to the camera. Richie, on the left side of him, had smirked, winked, and shot finger-guns at the view finder. Eddie looked at him, laughed a little--but then pointed to him. _"So I haven't done one of these in a_ long _time. But here I am. With TrashmouthTozier. My boo."_

 _"The Trash King himself!"_ Richie screeched.

 _"Indeed the king! There have been a ton of comments asking me about Richie--if we're dating, how long, when we're going to do a Boyfriend Tag,_ if _we are. Well, as you can see, some of those questions got answered right off the bat! Look at that. But we're going to answer the others ones throughout this video. So just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show!"_ He did jazz hands--and Richie, looking over and getting excited at the motion, joined in on the festivities before a jump-cut.

"Aw," Stan said, and actually paused the video. "You guys are so _cute._ "

"Man, if you don't un-pause it," Richie said, and playfully threatened to hit Stan, who gave him a laugh, and pressed play again on the video.

All of those cutesy things that he did for Eddie actually didn't seem so bad watching them--and he seemed less tense now that he knew that Stan thought they were cute. All he needed was to get past the potential Roasting Session, and he would be home free.

And thankfully, he didn't even have to deal with that. Stan was being over-dramatic, smiling with his hands over his chest. As stoic and aloof as he tried to come off, he was a Closet Sap and was a sucker for romance. (Really. When ~~Lebron James~~ Mike had ordered him a dozen roses and a stuffed owl plush and had it delivered to their apartment--really, he was going old-school--Stan had burst into tears.)

And he wasn't the only person that was being affectionate during the tag--Eddie was too, maybe even more-so. He always had his hand either on Richie's shoulder or his arm, he laughed at all of his jokes (and put up with all of his antics--even the nicknames--with no fuss, no muss); he kissed him on the cheeks and lips and held his hand. It was nice... and it only exemplified Richie's mushy behavior towards him. Richie called it "mushing back". His mush-back game was strong, and Eddie seemed to love it. He wondered if every single person that watches the video would be able to see the hearts in his eyes.

Even the more obvious questions were really entertaining to watch.

Where was their first date? _"It was a Chili's, and then he took me to a park in town that has, like, this little lake,"_ Eddie was gushing. _"And we sat on the dock, and skipped rocks for a while--he's not very good at it; I taught him how--and then he kissed me."_ He downcast his eyes and gave this cute, coy smile. _"It was pretty amazing."_ Richie had this dumb, love-struck look on his face. He was looking at Eddie like he was the best, the prettiest, the only boy in the world.

Well, he _was. But I_ digress!

What was the first thing they noticed about each other? _"His smile,"_ Eddie had answered. _"Because you guys know that he's smiling all the time. And he hates his smile, like a whole lot--but it's beautiful, babe."_ Richie had chuckled before he answered and then said _"His eyes,"_ feeling cliche; _"They look like they've got galaxies in 'em."_

Who was their best friend? _"Stan the Man,"_ Eddie said. And then he squinted his eyes, and Richie backed up and put his hands in front of him in mock fear. _But sometimes, they seem a little_ too _close. I think they used to have a thing for each other or something."_ 'Don't tell people that!' Richie had said in the video, but he was laughing. Then he answered: _"His is PaperBoatPrincey. I was intimidated at first, 'cause he's like, borderline perfect. But I can't even be mad. Because Bill is the shit."_

"Wait, pause," Stan said, and paused the video. "No offense, but I'd rather bleed out in a bathtub than date you."

 _"No offense!?"_ Richie exclaimed, and this time, he _did_ hit Stan. "I'm about to box you. Un-pause the video!" Stan cackled.

What shoe size does the other wear? _"A 6 and a half. In_ Mens," Richie said, and then began to snicker. _"The kid has baby feet."_ Eddie had huffed and looked at the camera and said: _"Well,_ he _wears a 12 and a half! He has_ clown feet!"

They went on like this, answering questions, laughing and smiling and enjoying each other's company--and when the video finally ended, Richie had looked over at Stan, who had gotten quiet all of a sudden. He snickered. "Dude. You can't possibly tell me you're crying."

 _"What did you expect? I'm just so happy for you,"_ Stan told him, and his shoulders shook as he was wracked with sobs. "Like, _that's so fucking cute, man._ You deserve to be happy. And I'm glad you finally are. You _motherfucker_."

Richie put his head in his lap to try to control his screams of laughter. Stan the Closet Sap strikes again... it was just too good of a chuck-opportunity to pass up.

 _"Shut up!_ You know how I get about shit like this!" Stan said, and it sounded like he was getting defensive.

"Oh, Stanny. Don't be that way. You know 'twas only a joke. I'm glad you care this fucking much about my life. I'm just waiting on your and Lebron's Boyfriend Tag now!"

"So you'd actually sit through like, just 15 minutes of me crying, is what you're telling me," Stan said. And Richie cackled again.

 

The next day, Eddie and Richie had actually sat down and looked at the comments on the video together. Richie thought that all of the people who had left those mean-spirited comments would be back full-force, but to his (pleasant, might he add) surprise... none of them seemed to really be there.

**LFOSIFKS F IT'S TRU E I'M CRYING**

**THIS IS SO CUTE**

**EDDIE!!! i'm so happy for you!!! congrats!!!! rich is a cool guy. i love you <3**

**You guys are adorable! Much love xoxox**

**WOW IT'S FOR REAL???? THE SHIP HAS SAILED???**

**REDDIE REDDIE REDDIE**

**u guys are datin for real?? yaaaayyyyyyy!**

**this is the most adorable shit i've ever seen in my life. my crops are flourishing**

**CLASSY AND TRASHY**

**c l a s s y a n d t r a s h y**

Eddie had snickered. "Classy and Trashy, eh? I wonder which one of us is the Classy one and which one of us is the Trashy one."

" _Obviously_ you're the Trashy one, Eds."

"Fuck you," Eddie said, but he laughed--well, giggled really--and it sounded so light and airy like Bill's sounded, and Richie could see how they were best friends; he could see the happiness that Bill radiating shining through Eddie, too, and they were like two matching suns. "Well, it's cute. It's a nice mix. It's good to be classy, but it's always fun to be a little trashy."

"On the flip side... you can the trashiest motherfucker in the world, but you still need at least _a little bit_ of class," Richie smirked. "But for real though, I'm glad, y'know. I'm happy for this. That you like me so much. And I like you back... you cute little plate of fettuccine."

"Decide on which pasta you want me to be," Eddie huffed, but then he smirked. "But of course, love. Classy and Trashy _do_ rhyme for a reason. They just go together."

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Juanito, watching that video: well goddamn it


End file.
